Demon of Justice
by Mel and Christy
Summary: An experimental OZ energy weapon blows Wufei into another dimension, one with Gods, demons and mythical races. Can the other pilots overcome their own problems and reunite with him? 1x2, 3x4, 2 5, 5 ? • AU-ish/ crossover with Weber's Oath of Swords universe • TWT • multiple plot lines
1. Prologue

Wufei raised his head groggily. All around him, Nataku's internal screens hissed static and amber status lights flashed from every panel. He blinked, confused, trying to think past the pounding headache.

_What happened...?_

* * * * *

"WAAAHAHAHAHAHA! It's time to meet your maker!"

Duo's wild laughter blasted out of the com and Wufei grimaced, tuning it out. The L2 pilot might sound like he was enjoying himself immensely, but there was an edge to his voice that told Wufei otherwise. They were in trouble, and the braided baka knew it.

OZ was slowly but surely losing the war, and in a last-ditch effort to turn the tide Lady Une had laid a trap for all five Gundams _-_ using what had to be **all** OZ's remaining resources. For every mobile suit they destroyed, there seemed to be fifteen more appearing; out of hidden bunkers, out of the overturned train that had been their original target, flying in from over the horizon. And only four of the Gundams could fight them; Wing was fully occupied with Tallgeese, fighting high overhead.

Cutting down the two Leos directly in front of him, Wufei spared half a second to glance quickly around the battlefield. Heavyarms had space around it, blasted clear by a hail of bullets, but as he watched, the huge Gatling gun dropped to the ground. Rockets continued to streak from the chest launchers, but there couldn't be many left if Trowa was already out of bullets.

Sandrock and Deathscythe were fighting back to back, slashing enemies to bits with scythe and blades. They seemed to be holding their own for now, but were so tightly encircled that there was no way they could break off and retreat. Wufei scowled, turning back to his own opponents. He and Trowa had enough space to engage their boosters and escape, but _-_ obviously! _-_ neither of them intended to. Wufei because he refused to leave fellow warriors in a deathtrap like this; Trowa because it would have meant leaving Quatre. Quatre had reported earlier that the Manganacs were on their way, but it didn't look like they would arrive in time to help.

Slashing at an Aries with Nataku's dragon-arm, Wufei began moving towards Duo and Quatre, intending to go to their assistance, when his com crackled to life again.

"Trowa, Wufei, there's some sort of energy weapon on that southern hill," Quatre said urgently. "It looks like they're aiming at Wing_-_"

"On it," came Trowa's flat voice.

"No, I've got it," said Wufei. "You've got a clearer path to help 2 and 4."

"Ah, yeah, Tro-man, not that we need a hand really _-_ but I'm sure you'd hate it if we trashed them all by our*OOF!*" Duo's voice cut off briefly, then returned in a stream of curses as an Aries and a Taurus slammed into Deathscythe and grappled, latching onto his right arm and leg. Seeing that he was hampered, others began to move in; Quatre had problems of his own.

"Right. Coming," said Trowa.

Wufei could see the weapon now, moving out of a bunker in the hill; he could see why Quatre was worried. It didn't match any type of weapon he'd ever encountered, but it was HUGE; a red glow was already flickering around some kind of emitter rod as it moved into view, swiveling upwards to point at Wing. Whatever it was, he doubted it was anything good.

He slapped a button and Nataku's thrusters kicked in, punching him into the air and bowling over the nearest mobile suits as he arrowed towards the new weapon. _It's definitely something experimental_, he thought as he swung his staff around and activated it; _it doesn't even look __**finished**__ - there's no armour around the base-_

And then it was whipping down with surprising speed to point at **him**, and he thought he heard Duo screaming "LOOK OUT, WU-MAN!" as his staff hit it_-_

_-_just as it fired, directly at him, at point-blank range.

_- - - - - - -_

Duo swore as he finally got his scythe into his _-_ Deathscythe's _-_ left hand and chopped the mobile suits off himself. Free of the restriction, he whipped around in a quick half-circle, slashing through the front rank of mobile suits.

"Hah! Take that! Think you can take Shinigami down that easily? Not a chance, you_-_"

He glanced up just in time to see the glowing rod whip down to point at Shenlong.

"Oh shit _-_ LOOK OUT, WU-MAN!"

And then his view of the battlefield whited out as a massive explosion sent Deathscythe sprawling.

_- - - - - - - _

Quatre curled into a ball in Sandrock's cockpit as the Gundam tumbled, clutching at his chest as a sickeningly hollow feeling blossomed in his heart.

_I can't feel him - he's gone-_

_- - - - - - - _

Trowa found himself flat on his back, with three mobile suits on top of Heavyarms.

"...what the hell was that?"

_- - - - - - - _

Heero managed to bring Wing out of its dive just above the ground. Fighting the controls _-_ the systems didn't seem to be answering properly _-_ he pulled up, gaining altitude.

The scene that greeted him was one of total devastation. Shattered mobile suits lay everywhere, smouldering, obscuring his view... he could see Tallgeese, crashed into a hillside to the north and not moving, but couldn't make out the other Gundams... and to the south was a huge crater. Quickly, he slapped at the com, bringing up a static-streaked video screen.

"Duo! Trowa! Quatre! Wufei! Check in!"

Duo's image was the first to come up, wincing and rubbing his head. "Ow... Heero, man, stop scrolling... I love you, but you're making my headache worse. Oi, is Wu-man okay? That thingy changed targets to him..."

"I don't know," Heero said flatly, not showing his relief. "I was concentrating on things up here. Where was he?"

"To the south; he was going after an energy weapon on that hill over _-_ oh. Oh, **shit**. Um. Uh, Heero... there **was** a hill there. Can you see Shenlong?"

"Not yet. My instruments don't seem to be_-_" Heero broke of as another image came up.

"What happened?" Amazingly, Trowa's hair was mussed.

_Gee,_ thought Duo dazedly, _not even Quatre manages that... whoa, focus. Important stuff happening here. No time to be concussed, Maxwell_. "It looks like the thing Wufei went to hit has gone 'boom' big time. The hill's not there any more."

"..." Trowa didn't respond audibly, but Heero could see Heavyarms standing up and moving unsteadily southwards.

"Quatre?"

Silence.

"Q-man? You there?" asked Duo. "Oi! Answer me, dude..." _ow ow shit this hurts... ow... okay, outta the harness... annnnnd... __**that**__ button, yeah... mm-hm, I'd say I'm concussed._ He clambered laboriously to his feet, ready to climb out of the cockpit and go over to Sandrock, but was forestalled as a third image flickered to life on his com screen. "All right! Q-man, don't scare me like that _-_ uh... Quatre? You okay?"

Quatre's eyes were hidden behind his bangs, head down. He didn't look up as he whispered, "He's gone. Wufei... I... I didn't feel him die, but he's **gone**..."

* * * * *

Wufei scowled, more frightened than angry but he _definitely_ wasn't going to admit it. He had managed to restart Nataku's computers, but something was definitely wrong; although all the diagnostics he'd run on the remaining external sensors came back 'functional', as far as they were concerned there was **nothing** out there. Not even space; **nothing**. Zip. Nada. Void. And why hadn't the others contacted him yet?

He sighed as his com's status light finally blinked green. Now he'd get some answers...

"Maxwell? Winner? Barton? Come in, over." _I won't call Yui just now - if he's still fighting Tallgeese, I can't afford to distract him.._. "Hello? Come in!"

Static.

Wufei swore softly and began unsnapping his safety harness. He hadn't felt any shocks or movement since he'd woken, so the battle was almost certainly over; it should be safe enough to leave the cockpit. And he had to find out just what the **hell** was going on!

He pushed the control to open the cockpit and stood, moving forwards as the armoured hatch slid down_-_

_-_and stopped, frozen, staring in wide-eyed shock at what was revealed outside.

**Nothing**.


	2. Chapter 1

Wufei sat in Nataku's cockpit, staring in bewilderment at his latest scan results.

_This... does __**not**__ make sense. But then, nothing about this... situation... has made sense from the start!_

According to all his instruments _-_ and the evidence of his own eyes _-_ Nataku was floating in... nothing. Space was at least black, with visible stars and the occasional man-made object. This was **really** nothing _-_ a sort of hollow empty non-colour that had seemed to suck at him, trying to pull him out of Nataku's hatch until he'd slapped the 'emergency close' button.

Wufei was profoundly grateful that Nataku's external cameras would only show the void outside as static-streaked gray.

There was no air out there; Nataku's environmental systems had automatically switched to space mode, 'seal and recycle'. However, it wasn't a vacuum either; if the sensors had detected vacuum, he wouldn't have been able to open the hatch. And when he **had** opened the hatch, he hadn't been blasted out into nowhere by explosive decompression.

That was another thing Wufei was grateful for. Knowing what was out there was bad enough. Eternally drifting through nothing, getting further from Nataku with each second, that soul-sucking void all around with no walls to block it out...

Wufei realised that he was shivering and hurriedly blocked off **that** train of thought.

He'd never thought he'd actually miss Duo's incessant inane babble; but now Wufei thought he'd give almost anything to hear that manic voice blasting out of his com. Even if he called him "Wuffie". Or "Wu-man".

Hell, he'd even take a couple of discs from the L2 pilot's ridiculous antique music collection. _What was that one he played over and over last month? 'They Might Be Giants', that was it... we all had that one album off by heart by the time Heero 'lost' the disc._

Nataku drifted in the void, and if you listened very carefully, you might have heard a Chinese boy quietly humming 'Birdhouse In Your Soul'.

Trowa looked up from where he was helping Quatre out of Sandrock's cockpit.

"... Duo's going to crash."

Deathscythe came swooping in erratically and, sure enough, looked to be heading for a large tree instead of the clearing; but straightened out at the last moment and made what **could** be termed a 'good' landing. (As in, 'any landing that doesn't leave your Gundam in flaming pieces...') It was a four-point landing. Two knees, left hand, and face. Afterwards, Deathscythe just... knelt there. Faceplanted. The scythe was, however, firmly planted upright in the ground... still active.

Wing landed seconds later, staggering a couple of paces before coming to a halt. Heero dropped out of the hatch almost before it stopped, moving immediately to the grovelling Gundam.

"Duo? Duo! Open up! Can you hear me?"

The hatch opened and Duo tumbled out limply, landing on top of a startled Heero. They ended up with Heero flat on his back in the dirt, Duo sprawled over his chest and stomach.

"Auu... itai."

"Duo? Are you OK?"

Hazy violet eyes blinked at Heero through Duo's messy bangs. "Heero... you..."

"Yes?"

"You work out too much."

Heero blinked, confused. "Huh?"

"You are not... **not** a very soft cushion to land on."

Heero scowled, torn between relief and annoyance. "Hn. Baka."

"But you love me anyway," slurred Duo, grinning despite a split lip and rapidly bruising cheek.

"Baka. Come on."

"Where we goin'?" Duo asked blearily as Heero helped him stand.

"Inside. You need to get cleaned up and have those cuts taken care of, and both you and Quatre need rest. How did you get in such bad shape?"

"Uh... I think I... kinda forgot to put my harness back on after I was gonna go see what was wrong with the Q-bean. I think I broke one of the screens when I landed on it just now... hey, no, come on Heero, we gotta go back and find Wufei! We can't just leave him there!"

"We'll find him, but first **you** are getting some medical attention."

"But_-_"

"And what do you mean, '**kinda** forgot'?"

"Eheheh... well..."

Successfully distracted, Duo let Heero help him inside. Trowa followed them, carrying a shivering Quatre in his arms.

Half an hour later, Duo's cuts had been treated and he was tucked into bed, assured by Heero _-_ or was it a threat? _-_ that he would be woken up every hour until he was over his concussion. Quatre's shock had been dealt with by a combination of hot sweet tea and Trowa, and he was tucked into bed in the same room as Duo with a goodnight kiss and a comforting parting silence.

After getting all four Gundams under cover _-_ and **finally** shutting off Deathscythe's scythe _-_ Heero and Trowa met in the safehouse kitchen to discuss their next step. Despite Duo's dogged insistence that if they just kept looking they were sure to find Wufei and Shenlong, they already knew that Shenlong, at least, was nowhere near the battlefield.

Although the Doctors would have preferred it if they had continued to work independantly, the five boys had long since decided that they were going to work together. Heero declared it was more efficient; Duo insisted that he'd go "stark raving bonkers, not just a little whacko like I am now, man, it wouldn't be pretty," without the company of people who knew who and what he was. Trowa and Quatre had been 'together' almost since their first meeting and would probably have teamed up even if the other pilots had insisted on staying separate. Wufei had worked alone for several months after the other pilots joined forces, but eventually even he gave in. (Duo insisted it was his nagging that had done the trick. Heero said he'd seen the logic of the idea. Quatre privately believed that Wufei had been lonely.)

In any case, if they were to work together, the Gundam pilots had reasoned that they had to be able to **find** each other. Normally this wasn't a problem; but there had been occasions when they hadn't been able to contact each other. Most notably, when one or another had been captured by OZ.

The fact that the Gundams were almost undetectable by instruments was very useful when they were hiding from OZ, but also made it much easier for OZ to keep a captured Gundam's location secret. So, they had installed 'screamers' in all of them. These little devices were buried deep within the Gundams' central torso, were impossible to remove in a hurry without destroying the main computers, and had only one purpose; to make as much electronic 'noise' as possible. They had a direct connection to the main and backup power supplies, could operate even if all the other systems were down, and were so powerful that they were almost impossible to jam. Deathscythe, with all its jamming and stealth equipment turned up fully, could blank one out; but, as Duo proudly declared after they tried **that** particular experiment, "Shinigami's **special**, man!"

When it had become clear that Shenlong was nowhere to be seen on the battlefield, Heero had sent out a signal that **should** have triggered Shenlong's screamer if it was within two hundred miles. There had been no response. Even so, they had stayed far longer than was prudent, searching for **anything** that might give them a clue to Wufei's fate. Duo had been looking for his friend, certain that he would be found alive _-_ probably in bad shape, sure, but **alive**; Heero and Trowa, after seeing the size of the crater left by the explosion of the weapon Wufei had attacked, had been looking for pieces of his Gundam. Quatre had gone through the motions for a short while, then just sat down in Sandrock and stayed quiet until the others were ready to go.

Now, Trowa and Heero sat down at the kitchen table and stared into their coffee mugs.

After a while, it was Trowa who spoke first. "It's possible that OZ picked him up after the explosion, and got him into a shielded bunker before we realised he was gone. If the signal never got to the screamer, and he couldn't trigger it himself..."

Heero nodded. "If his Gundam was destroyed, there should have been something remaining for us to find. Capture is the most likely explanation."

Trowa finished his coffee and stood up. "I'll contact the Doctors. You search OZ communications."

Heero stood and went to get his laptop without bothering to answer. Quietly, under his breath, he muttered, "Ninmu ryoukai."

"When the ship runs out of ocean, and the vessel runs aground, land is where we know the boat is found..."

Wufei sang quietly to himself to block out the silence as he worked. Earlier, he'd opened Nataku's hatch briefly _-_ keeping a firm grip on his seat's safety harness, just in case _-_ and thrown out a small metal plate. He'd then followed it with Nataku's scanners as it drifted slowly away, until it went out of range.

_Which confirms that I am, indeed, in some sort of void and not simply having my instruments - and eyes - fooled_, Wufei mused. _However, this brings up another logical inconsistency. The plate drifted directly outwards, as if it were in zero G; but __**I**__ certainly seem to have gravity... and when I dropped it within the cockpit, it fell normally. Localised gravity, only within Nataku?_

Humming his way through a portion of the song where he wasn't **quite** sure of the words, he sat back and looked over the preparations for his next experiment.

If there was anything other than him in this empty place, he'd reasoned, it was outside the range of his instruments. Therefore, he had to extend that range. The simplest way of doing so was to somehow send out a stronger signal, then wait with his sensors at full sensitivity to see if anything bounced it back at him. And since he saw no merit in half-hearted measures, he was going to use his screamer.

Most of the time he'd spent setting up for this had been dedicated to making sure he could turn the screamer **off** quickly. (After all, while the screamer was on it would be blinding all his instruments, and it was designed to be **difficult** to turn off _-_ what was the good of an unjammable emergency locator if an OZ soldier could just flick a switch and render it useless?) So, he now had a small device wired into his keyboard that would quickly send the (rather long and **very** complicated) shutdown code when he pushed a button, and also signal Nataku's sensors to switch back on and begin searching for any return signal.

He settled back in his chair, checked for the third time that everything he wanted off was OFF, reached beneath his seat and flicked a small hidden switch.

The soft, broken whimpering that had long ago replaced screams and pleas choked, gurgling softly, and then stopped. The robed man frowned, displeased. It was always so much better when the sacrifice lasted until the end of the summoning...

_It matters not. The moment has come._

He threw his head back and raised his hands to the dark sky, feeling the cooling blood trickle down his arms and chin, reaching out with the power raised by the ceremony, searching for a call_-_

_There! The strongest I've ever felt! This will truly be a __**magnificent**__ demon_!

He coiled the power around the call, and **pulled**.

Wufei had switched songs, since he'd discovered that he'd forgotten enough of 'Women and Men' to make singing it annoying.

"I lost my lucky ball and chain, now she's four years gone_-_" _No. I'm __**not**__ going to sing __**that**__ one. _"Hmmm... Particle man, particle man, doing the things a particle can..." _Better._

_That should be long enough_...

He reached for the button to shut off the screamer_-_

_-_and was thrown out of his chair as Nataku jerked backwards and shook violently around him.

For what seemed like a long time, all Wufei could do was wedge himself into a corner under one of Nataku's panels and hold on. At one point something crashed into the bulkhead next to him, just missing his head, and he swore as he recognised his screamer shutoff, trailing loose wires; then he covered his head with his arms and winced as the contents of the toolbox followed it.

Finally the shaking settled down somewhat; Wufei flung himself back into his seat and snapped his harness together faster than he ever had before. He spared a moment to hope that the shaking wouldn't get worse again, as that would make the litter of tools and broken components on the floor dangerous instead of merely an irritation; then he brought up Nataku's external cameras.

A sickly green glow was coiled around Nataku, continually shifting from one shape to another. Snaky coils melted into grasping hands flowed into clinging tentacles grew into snaky coils...

Wufei stared open-mouthed for long seconds. _That... that __**can't**__ be real! _He fumbled blindly at the controls, eyes never leaving the screen, then abruptly stopped himself. _The screamer! I have to shut it off before I bring up the sensors!_ Shooting a frustrated glare at the screamer shutoff (presently sliding across the floor in three pieces), he braced himself against the buffeting as much as possible and began typing in the shutdown code.

On his third try, he managed to type the code in without hitting any wrong keys as the energy jolted Nataku around. As the screamer shut off, the jolting stopped. Surprised, Wufei glanced back at the screen, and saw that the energy had drawn back slightly; then it coiled carefully back around Nataku and the jolting resumed.

_That... whatever it is... was it attracted by the screamer?_ he wondered. _It seems likely... now, what __**is**__ it and where is it taking me?!_ Quickly, Wufei brought up every scanner Nataku had.

It wasn't any form of energy or radiation that he could identify, that was certain; yet Nataku's detectors **did** register its presence. They had no idea **what** they were detecting, and that was giving the computer fits; finally, Wufei had to order it to stop trying to analyse the energy, just track it. The computer still insisted on flashing 'UNIDENTIFIED' at him, but at least it wasn't on its way to mechanical hysteria any more.

The energy stretched off in the direction it seemed to be dragging Nataku _-_ it was hard to tell, without anything to measure progress against, but the more violent jerks all seemed to be directed that way. It trailed off beyond his sensors' range, but there did seem to be... something... out there; some sort of whorl of energy? It was impossible to tell for sure; every time he tried to refine the scan, he lost it.

Wufei sighed. _It looks like this is going to go on for a while._ He set the computer to warn him if anything changed, and cautiously released his harness. _While I have the chance, I'd better tidy this mess up... before things get really violent again, and I end up impaled with a screwdriver!_

He had been briefly confused when the call cut off; perhaps the demon felt no need to continue once it had been contacted? It was surprisingly hard to feel when it was silent. Only the traces of his own magic clinging to it had allowed him to grasp it again. Still, he had it firmly once more, and it was slowly drawing nearer.

_An undetectable demon? This raises interesting possibilities..._

Heero slipped silently into the room and paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. No need to switch on a light; Duo might need to be woken up, but Quatre certainly didn't.

He stood by Duo's bed and frowned slightly, considering the best way to go about this. After bouncing around Deathscythe's cockpit during his 'landing', there wasn't much of the braided baka that wasn't bruised or cut... and even though he was currently full of painkillers and probably wouldn't notice if Heero poked him right on top of one, Heero definitely didn't want to risk aggravating any of the wounds.

It would... reduce his effectiveness on their next mission.

Yeah. That was it.

No other reason.

The largest undamaged area of skin that Heero could locate was Duo's left cheek... so he reached out, not ungently, and patted him a couple of times.

"Duo. Wake up."

No response. Duo slept on in chemical bliss.

Frowning, Heero bent closer to the sleeping boy. He didn't want to raise his voice; Quatre was a notoriously light sleeper.

"Duo." He patted the cheek again, then cupped his hand around Duo's chin and bent closer still, peering to see if there was any response.

Duo could hear Heero's voice calling his name softly, and felt a hand gently grasp his chin. He felt as if he were floating... was he dreaming?

_Mmm... niiiiice... gotta be a dream. He'd never act like this for real._..

Heero froze as Duo's eyes fluttered open... and he **smiled**.

It wasn't Duo's normal, slightly manic, "Hey-man-life's-just-a-ball" grin. It was a genuine, warm, **sweet** smile.

"Heero..."

Then Duo reached up, wrapped his arms around Heero's neck, and pulled him down for a long, deep, passionate kiss.

Heero's brain shut down. He found himself responding without quite being sure what he was doing... just that it felt **good**.

Eventually, Duo loosened his grip slightly and smiled up into Heero's wide eyes. "Mmm... tha'ss good, Heero. Wish I had the guts to do that in real life... but you'd prob'ly kill me. Guess I'll just have to settle for dreams, huh?" Then he pulled Heero into a tight hug and dropped immediately back into sleep.

_{ {blink} } { {__blink} }_

Heero could swear that, physically impossible for humans or not, Duo was **purring**.

He considered his options.

He could wake Duo up and demand an explanation... but that would wake Quatre. And besides, he needed to think about this himself. A lot.

He settled for just disentangling himself from the hug _-_ an apparently simple operation that took a surprisingly long time _-_ and went back downstairs.

Wufei was under a panel, stretching for the last elusive drill bit, when the alarm he'd set on the computer went off. The **first** thing he did was leap back into his seat and strap in; the next was to fling the drill bit into the tool box and secure it quickly in its compartment. _No way am I going to be caught rattling around in here with random shrapnel again!_ Then he looked up at the screen and caught his breath.

_Ah. It seems we sped up while I was playing 'Hunt the Spanner'_.

The grasping coils of energy had turned Nataku so that the Gundam now faced in the direction of travel. Wufei therefore had an absolutely **magnificent** view in the main screen of what, exactly, he was being pulled towards.

The previously glimpsed 'whorl of energy' was revealed as an immense swirling funnel, glowing the same sickly green as the energy trails pulling at Nataku _-_ which, Wufei could now see, came from the depths of the funnel... and were pulling him into the mouth as he watched.

As Nataku tumbled into the funnel, the energy coils released their grip and dissipated. They weren't needed any more; the funnel was exerting some sort of suction, and Nataku gained speed quickly, beginning to spin. Wufei braced himself and gritted his teeth as the ride went from rough to violent to Ten Minute Wash Cycle; then he caught a glimpse of the funnel's mouth drawing closed behind him, and some instinct prompted him to squeeze his eyes shut as there was a bright green flash and he was once again blasted through the surface of reality.

It was different this time.

For one thing, he didn't lose consciousness. Wufei was unsure whether this was a good or bad thing _-_ good, because he was aware of what was happening to him; or **bad**, because he was aware of what was happening to him.

When he opened his eyes, Nataku was streaking down a blindingly white tunnel of energy, much brighter than the aura of sickly smoky green that still surrounded the Gundam. Wufei stared in awe as crackling arcs of energy flickered across the breadth of the tunnel in front of him, looking like lightning strikes or electrical arcs strong enough to power a colony for a year.

Then one of those arcs flashed across the tunnel just as Nataku sped past.

Wufei convulsed in his seat, thrashing against his safety harness as white energy blazed through his Gundam and into **him**, pouring into his body as his hands clenched on the controls. For a moment it seemed as if he was flying along the corridor alone, no Gundam, no Nataku, just him alone feeling the ache of wounds across his chest and back as the energy poured painlessly through his body and into something small and fragile and unspeakably precious near his heart_-_

_-_and then Nataku flew out of the energy stream, and Wufei found himself back in his seat, hanging limply in his harness as he gasped for breath.

It didn't hurt. Not exactly.

Wufei found himself thinking of the time he was three, back on his home colony, and he had stuck a metal skewer into one of the ventilation slots at the back of his father's laptop computer. It had been plugged into the mains at the time. That hadn't hurt, either; but he could still distinctly remember waking up halfway across the room with all his muscles shivering, struggling to breathe.

This felt the same way, but it certainly hadn't been electricity; when he managed to raise his head, all of Nataku's internal screens and systems were blinking calmly at him, working as if nothing had happened.

_This... definitely did __**not**__ happen... when I went into that void-space. _It was a struggle to think clearly; his mind kept slipping back to that fourteen-year-old memory. _I passed out. And I woke up feeling... battered... with a headache... not limp and wrung out, like now. And Nataku... Nataku's systems all crashed. I had to restart..._

Slowly, as he forced himself to think, the haze lifted from his mind and strength began to return to his muscles. It still took him completely by surprise, however, when the green haze clinging to the Gundam flashed a brilliant emerald _-_ and Nataku slammed to a stop.

Trowa looked up from his computer. "Heero."

"Hn?"

"Time to wake Duo up again."

"...you do it."

Wufei looked, surprisingly calmly, at yet **another** new image on his main viewscreen.

Nataku seemed to be sitting in a canyon, leaning back against the rocky end wall. He had a good view of the canyon walls vanishing into the night-time darkness, and a range of hills in the distance blocking off the lower stars. There seemed to be a flickering light _-_ firelight? _-_ coming from a little way in front of Nataku's feet, and his external pickups were relaying the sound of an excited conversation to him.

He wasn't particularly interested in that right now, however.

He was busy looking at the moons.

Both of them.

_Now, how would Duo put this? Oh, yes..._ he thought, nearly chuckling with fatigue- and shock-induced hysteria.

"Nataku, I don't think we're in Kansas any more..."


	3. Chapter 2

The living room was quiet except for a soft murmur from the TV, sound turned down low, and the -takatakataka- of the keys on Heero's laptop. Trowa, having sent off messages to the five doctors, was surfing the news channels for any mention of their battle; Heero had hacked into an OZ computer and was searching for any mention of Wufei's presumed capture.

"Anything?"

Heero's eyes flicked up from his screen momentarily. "Not yet. They took serious losses in the fight - mostly due to the explosion. They're still tallying up the damage."

"Ah."

"You?"

"The explosion's been reported, with speculation on what could have caused it. The current theory is a train crash involving volatile cargo."

Heero snorted. "Well, the train crashed... and the cargo was certainly explosive."

It was hard to tell in the flickering light from the TV screen, but Trowa **might** have smiled at that. Just a little.

Heero looked back at his laptop, fingers flying over the keys. He was running his searches on autopilot, though; his mind was very definitely elsewhere.

_"Mmm... tha'ss good, Heero. Wish I had the guts to do that in real life... but you'd prob'ly kill me. Guess I'll just have to settle for dreams, huh?"_

Duo kissed me.

Why did he do that?

Part of Heero's mind gave him an answer. _'Maybe he likes you.'_

'Admit it; you like him too.'

He's... a friend. That's all.

'Think about it. He rooms with you all the time. He spends most of his time with you - more than with the others. He keeps trying to get you to do things with him. He touches you every chance he gets...'

'...he says he loves you.'

Heero came up with an objection to **that** one quickly. _He just does that to be annoying._

'Are you sure? He

_**did**__ say he wanted to kiss you "in real life".'_

He's concussed!

'But he never lies.'

'Admit it. You liked it. And you didn't want him to stop.'

Trowa looked up from checking his computer. "Heero."

"Hn?" Heero answered almost eagerly, glad of any distraction from the path his thoughts were taking.

"Time to wake Duo up again."

Some distraction THAT was.

"...you do it."

_'Oh, now __**that's**__ facing the issue boldly, isn't it?'_

Trowa slipped silently into the bedroom, moving immediately to check on Quatre. The blonde boy was sleeping peacefully, curled up hugging his pillow, covers kicked down and tangled around his legs.

Trowa's mouth quirked into the faintest possible smile. He was... intimately acquainted with Quatre's sleeping habits, and was used to waking up in winter with no blankets, or being nearly choked as his lover used him as a big huggy toy. He gently untwisted the blankets and pulled them up, smoothing his fingertips over Quatre's cheek as he stirred and muttered something incoherent. The beginning frown melted into a little smile as Quatre sighed and slipped back into deep sleep, reassured.

Assured that his lover was resting comfortably, Trowa straightened and moved to the other bed. Duo was flat on his back, one arm thrown over his head, other hand clutching his braid. Trowa examined the areas visible above the blankets, and came to the same conclusion Heero had; the left cheek was the only undamaged part.

[patpat] "Duo. Wake up."

Pause. No response.

[patpat] "Duo."

"Mmmh..." Without opening his eyes, Duo reached up and wound his arms around Trowa's neck, pulling him down into a warm embrace. Green eyes widened as Trowa suddenly found Duo's face **very** close to his own.

"Nnn... Heero..." Violet eyes opened, blinked, then widened in dismay. "Aw man... the dream changed! Trowa... change back into Heero, damnit, I want another kiss!"

Trowa blinked, bemused, as Duo first thumped his shoulder then shook him, as if he were trying 'percussive maintenance' on a stubborn TV. Finally, he gave up.

"Fuck... I can't even get lucky when I'm asleep," grumbled Duo, turning over and going back to sleep.

*blink*blink*

Trowa considered his options.

He could wake Duo up and demand an explanation; but somehow he didn't really think he needed one.

It was all rather amusing, really.

Smirking slightly, Trowa walked out, closed the door, and went back downstairs.

The robed man gloated up at the demon he had summoned, basking in the warm glow of a job well done. He never knew what he'd get when he reached into the void between worlds - large, small, weak, strong, there was no way to tell. A strong sacrifice meant a strong summoning, which in its turn made it **possible** to get a strong demon; but there were no guarantees.

This demon was **magnificent**.

_I must write down every detail of what happened in this ritual,_ he mused, scratching idly at a drying trickle of blood on his chin. _And I will ask the others if anything different happened during the preparations. This sacrifice was __**not**__ particularly strong; yet look at the results! I __**must**__ find out what made this possible._

He stepped closer to the demon, trusting the residue of the summoning spell to keep it trapped and harmless until it could be properly bound to his service, running greedy eyes over its form. More humanoid than most, and larger than any he'd previously summoned, this demon had the form of an immense warrior clad in armour of some shiny metal, coloured blue, red and silver. Or perhaps the metal was its true substance? He could see no gaps...

_I've never heard of a metal demon; but then, I've never heard of one wearing metal armour, either. Nor have I heard any rumours of demons that are undetectable by magic, and this one seems to be undetectable when it isn't calling. Once it is properly bound, I must question it... find out if there are more..._

There was a scraping sound of metal against rock as the demon shifted, tilting its head down to look at him. Its eyes glowed white, he noted, and a third glow flickered into life, coming from some sort of crest on its head.

He smiled up at it. "I'll have all your secrets soon, my pet. I'll find out how to summon more like you. What couldn't I do, with an army of your kin?"

He turned with a dramatic sweep of his arm, gesturing commandingly at his servants and soldiers.

"Prepare the second sacrifice!"

Wufei gazed, fascinated, at the two moons hanging in the sky.

_Well... I am certainly not on Earth any more... as if I actually needed the confirmation, after everything that has happened in the past few hours!_ He shook himself and blinked, dragging his eyes away from the sight. _There will be plenty of time to stare at the sky __**later**__!_ he thought, shifting the controls so that Nataku's head (and main camera) turned to survey the area directly in front of him. _Right now I have more important things to do, like finding out where I am and what is... going... on..._

He trailed off in horror, staring wide-eyed.

He was in a box canyon, Nataku sitting propped up against the end wall. He already knew that. That wasn't a problem.

The area was lit by dozens of burning torches and a few oil lamps. There was a cluster of people, some in uniform and some in tunics, pointing up at Nataku and talking excitedly. Behind them, he could see several horses, some way down the canyon, hobbled and tied to a picket line.

That wasn't a problem either.

Directly in front of Nataku's feet, staring up with an unpleasantly hungry grin, was a man wearing a long flowing robe. And behind him...

Behind him...

Wufei wrenched his eyes away, swallowing hard.

He wasn't an innocent. He'd seen death in a multitude of forms... caused much of it himself. And he'd seen the results of torture. He'd **been** tortured; he had even been taught, in theory, how best to go about it himself, should it ever be **absolutely** necessary.

When he thought about it, which wasn't often, he was very glad that it never **had** been necessary. He'd made threats, a time or two - when lives were on the line - but never had to carry them out.

But **this**... this went beyond anything he'd ever encountered.

His attention was drawn back to the viewscreen as the robed man said something in a smug, gloating voice, then turned and called loudly to the cluster of people. Several broke away from the group; two, in tunics, moved to the slab of rock behind the robed man, and started to untie the ropes that still bound the tattered remains there. Three, in uniform, moved to a shadowed area by the canyon wall.

Wufei's head snapped up as a definitely feminine voice rose, yelling. From the tone, he **didn't** think she was being polite. Another, more frightened voice joined in... then he saw them, as the men (soldiers?) dragged them into the light. Two girls, barefoot and wearing shin-length plain dresses, hands tied behind their backs. One was considerably taller than the other - taller than the men holding her, in fact - and had...

...long, pointed, **furry** ears?!

He rubbed his eyes, then looked again. Yes, the girl was well over six feet tall and had long, pointed, furry ears. Now that he thought of it, a couple of the soldiers were... overlarge... as well...

The robed man pointed at the taller girl, and the two soldiers began to drag her towards the now-vacant stone slab. Wufei snarled, snapping out of his dazed state. "Chikushou - what am I **doing**?! Just sitting here **watching**? **Fuck that!**"

Green smoky light coiled around Nataku's torso and legs, holding the Gundam down as it moved to stand. Wufei swore again, fighting the controls. "Kisama! Damn you - damn you to **hell**, you sadistic bastard - I won't let you-!"

The robed man grinned up at him again, insultingly, then moved to stand behind the sacrificial stone, pulling a knife from his belt and testing the edge with his thumb as the soldiers lifted the struggling girl onto the altar. The men in tunics moved in to tie her down.

Deep black eyes glared ice-cold hatred at the image in the screen as Wufei lifted his right arm to point at the robed man.

"Over **your** dead body."

Naiya yelped, cut off in mid-curse as something huge flashed past just above her struggling body. There was a loud crunching noise, a moment's pause, then a chorus of horrified shouts and screams from the priest's men - and suddenly she was no longer being held. Quickly, she rolled off the altar (on the side AWAY from the priest), then peered upwards and over the edge.

The priest's servants were all running, and most of the soldiers were demonstrating that military training meant **they** could run **faster**. A couple were backing away with their swords drawn, staring at something above and behind her.

Naiya turned around.

The giant demon's arm slowly moved back over her head. It was... longer, and... had more joints... and the hand was... She blinked as the briefly-glimpsed fanged head unfolded backwards and the hand reappeared, the extra joints in the arm somehow folding themselves away.

_Ha! Seems like that bastard priest doesn't have it as trapped as he thought!_ Naiya laughed to herself. _He won't be happy... hm. Where __**is**__ he?_

Cautiously, she peeked back over the altar, and spotted the priest almost immediately. He was sprawled on his back some distance away, arms and legs at odd angles; as she watched, he coughed up blood, gasped, and stopped breathing. As he died, so did the magic holding the giant demon prisoner - and it stood up... and up... and **up**...

_Oh __**gods**__,_ she thought, pressing back against the altar stone. _It's even bigger than I thought!_

Wufei snarled in satisfaction as the robed man choked and died. _One girl is __**there**__, by the altar. The other - ah, over there; they left her when they ran,_ he thought as Nataku rose to her feet. _Both are well clear of danger; and I think I can safely assume that everyone else here is __**guilty**__._

He thumbed a button on the control arm and smiled grimly as bullets spat from the ports on Nataku's head. The last soldier was cut down just meters away from the horses he had been trying to reach; it would have done him little good if he had made it, as the now-panicked beasts pulled free of their tethers and bolted.

Wufei sat back, wearing his 'Justice Has Been Served' expression.

The priest had been only barely within reach of Nataku's dragon-arm, but there had been enough force in the 'punch' to fling him a considerable distance. Although Wufei took note of that with approval, he never did notice the **odd** thing that had happened.

His hands hadn't been on the controls when Nataku struck out.

Naiya stared up at the huge demon. It had killed the priest and all his men, and now it was just... standing there. It seemed to be watching her, but nothing else.

_Well. Standing here gaping at it won't do me any good..._ Naiya stood up, dusted off her skirt, scowled briefly at the bloodstains and went to look for Rami. She found the other girl huddled against a rock, weeping pathetically.

"Oh hush, Rami! What are you crying about **now**? I'll admit you had a reason before, when they were going to sacrifice us, but that's not how things turned out!"

Huge blue eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, looked up at her from beneath wavy golden bangs as she untied the human girl's hands. "B-but Naiya... the demon..."

"Killed the men who were going to kill us. This is a **good** thing, don't you think?"

"And now it's surely going to kill us! Oh Naiya, I'm scared!" Rami threw herself into Naiya's arms, sobbing theatrically.

"Rami! If it wanted to kill us, we'd already be dead!"

"Y-you mean... it wants us **alive**?! To- to- Oh noooo~! I'd rather die!"

Naiya rolled her eyes as she patted Rami's back mechanically. "Somehow I **don't** think we have to worry about **that**, dear."

Eventually, Naiya managed to calm Rami down and pry herself loose from the blonde girl's vice-like grip. She hadn't had to slap her to snap her out of hysteria, but it had been a near thing... and Naiya was keeping the option in mind.

Rami insisted on staying right behind Naiya as she moved around the canyon, stepping on the taller girl's heels a few times and clutching a fold of her dress; but she balked when Naiya started rifling through the baggage piled near where the horses had been.

"Naiya~! That's stealing!"

"They're **dead**, Rami, they don't need it any more. Besides, they stole most of this stuff in the first place - some of it from **us**."

"But... but it's still..."

"Are you saying you **don't** want your necklace back?"

"No! That's - that's different!"

Rami stayed quiet after that... at least, she did until Naiya started searching the bodies.

"Ewwwwww~! How CAN you?! That's **disgusting**, you haven't got any scruples at **all**!"

Naiya's temper snapped.

=SLAP!=

Wide blue eyes met furious brown as Rami cowered, hand pressed to her reddening cheek. When Naiya spoke, her voice was ice-cold. "No, Rami, I guess I **don't** have any scruples when it comes to the survival of my village."

"S-survival? I... I don't..."

"When these bastards attacked, they fired the grain fields as a distraction, remember? And they wounded a lot of the men. Some of them are **dead**. So we've lost a lot of the crop, and we may not have enough workers to plant a proper winter crop. We may not have enough fighters to protect what we've got left from bandits. And **that** means we may not be able to pay our full taxes this year. We might have to choose between starving and being evicted. So if I have a chance to get some money, or something we can sell, I am going to take it even if it means going through a dead man's pockets.

"Now, if you aren't going to help, just shut up and let me work in peace."

Five minutes later, as Naiya was gingerly extracting a money pouch from inside a soldier's tunic, an extremely quiet voice spoke up behind her.

"Naiya?"

"...Yes?"

"...I'm sorry. I didn't... I... um..."

Naiya smiled slightly, not turning around. "It's all right."

"Um... I can't... um... I don't... there'ssomemorebaggageoverhereI'llsearchthatokay?" Quick footsteps pattered over to the canyon wall, **away** from the scattered bodies.

Naiya rolled her eyes, smile gone slightly twisted. _She's not a __**bad**__ person. She's just sheltered, and vain, and romantic, and spoilt, and... ugh! Gods save me from beauty, if that's what it does to you!_

Well... that's not entirely fair. Mana's nearly as pretty as Rami, and

_**she's**__ sensible. Gods save me from over-indulgent parents, then._

At least she's forgotten to be afraid of the demon. Scatterbrain.

A short while later, they had a respectable collection of coins and jewellery in a large pouch. None of it was particularly valuable, but it added up to a decent total in Naiya's mental tally. _Well, our chances are a bit better now... hm. No more putting it off, I guess._ "Rami, there was a blanket in that pile, wasn't there?"

"Yes, here-"

_It's big enough. Good._ "Thank you. You... don't have to help with this, all right? Just stay here."

"Huh? What are you... oh." Rami's eyes widened as she watched Naiya walk towards the altar, unfolding the blanket; then she swallowed hard and followed, clutching the pouch like a talisman.

Naiya blinked, surprised. "Really, it's okay-"

"No," Rami said, sounding surprisingly firm. "We... weren't friends, but... that could have been me. And we didn't **hate** each other. I - I won't dishonour her memory by turning away from her body."

Together, they spread the blanket over the tattered remains, and carefully tucked and rolled until they had the woman's body wrapped up neatly. They stood silently for a moment, gazing solemnly down at the bundle.

"Um... now what do we do?"

Naiya sighed, looking around. "Well, since the horses are gone, we're walking back home..."

Rami drooped. "It took over a day to get here on horseback!"

"I know. Believe me, I **know**," Naiya groaned, rubbing her bottom. She'd never ridden a horse before, and she **definitely** didn't want to repeat the experience. At least, not tied to the saddle. She sighed again. "If we build a cairn of rocks over her, we can come back later to get-"

There was a low rumbling sound, and the ground shook as the giant demon stepped towards them. Rami screamed and clutched at Naiya as it reached out-

-and stopped, crouching, with its left hand lying on the ground, palm upwards.

The two girls stared at the huge hand, then up at the demon's impassive metal face... then back at the hand. Finally, Rami whispered, "What... what's it doing? What does it want?"

"I - I think-"

The demon made another rumbling sound, as if impatient, and reached out with its right hand. Rami screamed again and hid behind Naiya; Naiya watched wide-eyed as it carefully scooped up the blanket-wrapped body, laid it in its left palm, then pushed the left hand a little closer to them as it made a beckoning motion with the right.

"I **think** it wants to carry us."

"What?! No! I can't - it's-"

"It's that or walk."

"Naiya!"

Naiya grinned down at the smaller human. "Seriously, Rami, I think it just wants to help. It saved our lives! If it really wants to hurt us, what's taking it so long?"

"What if - if - if it's saving us for later?"

"Do you think we can outrun it?"

"No..."

"Then I say we do what it wants and hope for the best." She stepped cautiously onto the giant palm, sat down, and held her hand out to Rami. "Coming?"

"Well... I certainly don't want to stay **here**..." Rami shivered, looking around at the dead bodies and blood everywhere, then stepped forward determinedly. "All right... but I swear, Naiya, if it kills us I'm going to **haunt** you!"

Naiya laughed, helping Rami clamber onto the hand and settle herself. "Tell you what, if it kills us we'll **both** haunt **it**, okay? I'm sure we'll be able to think of lots of things to- eeeeeep!" She grabbed wildly for support as the hand abruptly rose, quicker than a bird taking flight.

When the world steadied around her, she opened her eyes cautiously and looked around. Rami had her arms wrapped around her waist, face buried in her back, shivering; Naiya discovered that she was sprawled flat on her face, one hand clutching the blanket. Carefully, she unclenched her fist, and edged forwards to peer between the thumb and edge of the palm.

"Oooooh... Rami?"

"Yes?" came a terrified squeak from near her kidneys.

"**Don't** look down."

"All I plan to look at is the back of your dress, so I **can't** look down- ew! Oh no, bloodstains - oh-" Rami dithered, torn between clutching Naiya and pulling away from the dark stains on the back of her gown.

"Look, if you just sit quietly in the middle you should be okay. There's enough room for us to... to... oh my."

"**What**?!"

"Um... I just found out why we're up so high."

"Wh-what do you mean?" asked Rami tremulously, peering up at her.

Naiya pointed mutely to the huge metal face, calmly observing them from not very far away at ALL. There was a short pause before she found her voice again.

"I guess... he wanted a closer look."

-takatakatakatakatakatakataka-

"Heero."

-takatakatak-

"Yes?"

Trowa didn't look away from the television. "Your turn."

"...what?"

"I woke Duo up last time. It's your turn."

There was a long pause, then the sound of a chair scraping backwards. And another pause, before slow footsteps went upstairs.

Trowa's smirk widened.

_Quatre would never forgive me if I disappointed Duo again._

Upstairs:

_..._

...

'So, are you just going to stand here and watch Duo sleep?'

'It's not like you haven't done it before-'

SHUT UP.


	4. Chapter 3

Heero was arguing with himself. One of the psychology textbooks he'd read as part of his studies had said this wasn't necessarily a bad thing... but he was **losing**.

That couldn't be good.

_..._

'Oh yes, the multipurpose statement. Next it'll be "hn".'

Shut _**up**__._

'Not until you admit I'm right.'

...

'There it is again! Are we going to stand here all night?'

...

'You fantasise about his hair.'

I do NOT!

'You nearly had a heart attack the first time you saw him with his hair loose... freshly washed... clinging to his-'

Shut. Up. Now.

'Or what? "Omae o Korosu"? That'd be a bit tricky.'

)#!%)# !

'You've still got the same reaction to the sight. You've seen him like that what, four times?'

Five...

'You keep track! How _sweet_!'

Heero was positive that part of his mind was quietly laughing at him.

- - - - - -

Downstairs, Trowa checked his watch.

_Heh... fifteen minutes and counting._

- - - - - -

_'You know, it's pretty surprising that you've seen Duo with his hair down at __**all**__. He keeps that very... private. Personal.'_

It's unavoidable when we room together.

'You think so? Usually he combs it out wet and braids it in the bathroom, no matter WHO'S banging on the door to get in.'

...

'Think about it. Have any of the others seen it loose?'

How would I know?!

'Wufei's been alone with him on long-term missions a couple of times - ooh, was that a twinge of jealousy?'

_**NO!**___

'Just checking - anyway, you know he's ranted about "Maxwell's insufferable habit of locking himself in the bathroom EVERY morning, no matter WHAT else is going on, until that damn BRAID of his is PERFECT-" ...remember?'

...

'And if you've been rooming with him for most of _**two years**__, and you've only seen his hair down __**five**__ times, do you honestly think he couldn't have avoided it?'_

...

'You're losing this argument, Heero. You _**do**__ care.'_

Shut up.

'This argument itself is _**proof**__.'_

...huh?!

'I quoted Wufei.'

So?!

'And you're so concerned about Duo, and the fact that you _**might**__ have feelings for him, that you didn't - even for a heartbeat - think about what happened to Wufei today.'_

Heero's eyes widened and his fists clenched tighter as he realised... that annoying little part of his mind was **right**.

_'...I rest my case.'_

- - - - - -

Duo jerked abruptly awake, shaken out of sleep by a rough hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up!"

_Huh? Heero sounds... angry? What's going on?_

Startled violet eyes met furious blue for an instant, before Heero spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. Staring up at the ceiling, Duo blinked, trying to clear his thoughts.

_What the HELL did I do to piss him off NOW?!_

- - - - - -

Trowa glanced at his watch as Heero came down the stairs. _Nearly twenty minutes... hm. Looks like something went badly wrong._ He watched from under his bangs, maintaining the illusion that he was focussed on the TV, as Heero (in full Perfect Soldier Mode) stalked across to his chair and sat down.

The expected tapping of keys did not, however, start. One of Trowa's eyebrows lifted a millimetre. Heero was just sitting at the table, staring **through** his computer screen, stone-faced.

The sound of a door opening came from upstairs.

Trowa tracked the sound of unsteady footsteps as they made their way down the hall. Glancing back at Heero, he saw his hands clench into fists on the table; then he looked back at the stairs just in time to see Duo half-stagger, half-fall into view, clutching at the banister for support.

"Damn it Heero, who the **fuck** stuck a stick up your ass **this** time?!" Duo nearly spat the words at Heero, eyes blazing. "If that's the way you're gonna wake me up, I'd rather take the chance of dying in my sleep! At least it would be less **painful**! If you have a problem with me, **say** so. If you've got a problem with something else, then **don't** take it out on me, because I have enough things to worry about without wondering if you're gonna **trash** me in my **sleep**!"

Duo's mouth moved as if he wanted to say more, but then he pressed his lips together, glaring at the back of Heero's head. Trowa glanced across to see how the Japanese pilot was taking this, and wasn't particularly surprised to see that he hadn't reacted outwardly... other than to clench his fists even tighter.

A sigh came from the direction of the stairs, and then Duo's voice - still angry, but quieter. "Fine."

Then there was a slithering sound, a thud, and a loud hiss of pain. Trowa and Heero both spun around to see Duo on his hands and knees on the stairs, forehead pressed to one step, teeth clenched and tears of pain in his eyes. "Shit...!" he gasped quietly, then pushed himself up, grabbed for the banister and started trying to pull himself to his feet.

Heero had barely begun to stand when Trowa stalked past, shooting him an icy glare; as he dropped back into his seat, eyes wide in surprise, the taller boy was already at Duo's side helping him up.

"Daijoubu?"

"Yeah, yeah, daijoubu damnit. Just slipped and banged my knee, is all." Duo's voice was a shock, suddenly tired and defeated; Trowa had **never** heard him sound quite so depressed.

"Painkillers worn off?"

"You could say that."

"Right. Come on."

As gently as he could, Trowa got Duo back into bed - miraculously **not** waking Quatre - fed him painkillers, and checked his knee.

"It's no worse than it was."

"Great; that's a bright spot in my day. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up," Duo sighed. "What the hell did I do this time, man? I mean, I haven't pulled any tricks for at **least** a week, and then I just short-sheeted his bed; it's not like I did anything to Wing."

Trowa stayed silent, uncomfortably. Duo's voice was beginning to slur as the strong painkillers pulled him back into sleep.

"All I wanna do is keep everyone cheerful, keep us all together... and I want Heero to like me. I can't even get that right. I didn't warn Wufei in time, and now this..." Duo's eyes drifted shut. "Am I really... that much trouble... Trowa?"

"No."

Trowa wasn't sure whether Duo had heard him or not. He stayed a few minutes longer, studying the sleeping face; there was a slight unhappy frown there, and both hands were clutching the braid like a lifeline.

_Well, __**that**__ idea backfired miserably,_ he thought glumly. _This is my fault - and I don't know if I can fix it..._

- - - - - -

Heero turned his head slightly as he heard Trowa coming down the stairs, but didn't look around; he just listened as the footsteps crossed the floor towards the TV, and then paused. When Trowa spoke, his voice was colder than Heero had ever heard it... except once, when Quatre had been injured.

"**I'll** wake him up from now on."

* * * * *

Piloting Nataku through a maze of interconnecting canyons, following a trail of hoofprints he **hoped** had been left by the robed man's entourage on their way in, Wufei glanced briefly at the two girls riding in Nataku's palm. _At least the blonde onna's got a grip on herself now. And the... taller one... is taking all this well._

The 'taller onna', as he insisted on thinking of her, had mid-brown hair that had been braided, then coiled around her head and into a bun by her neck. Perhaps he could term her the 'brunette onna'.

It was definitely easier than thinking of her as 'the one that isn't human'.

He'd taken a good look earlier, when he first picked them up, and it was definite. The blonde girl certainly looked human... actually, she reminded him rather of Quatre in drag, from that disastrous mission where three of the Gundam pilots had had to enrol at an all-girls school. Wufei quickly dragged his thoughts away from the memory of THAT indignity; Heero and Trowa had insisted that neither of **them** could 'pass', the cowards. In any case, whatever the blonde looked like, the brunette was entirely too tall, especially for a human from what seemed to be a medieval-level society; there was something odd about the bone structure in her face; and there was the small matter of...

...the ears.

His eyes kept wandering back to those ears.

Long.

Pointed.

**Furry**...

Wufei realised that he'd nearly missed a turn, and dragged his attention back to the tracks.

- - - - - -

Naiya leaned forwards between two of the demon's fingers, peering into the dimness. "He must have **great** night vision; I can't see a thing!" She leaned further, craning her neck to look straight down. "Well, not quite... I can see a little, where the moonlight falls... but certainly not enough to backtrack horses, and that's what he seems to be doing. And he's so **fast**!"

From behind her, Rami spoke up in a worried voice. "**Please** be careful, Naiya! You'll fall!"

"Don't worry, I'm holding on. And he doesn't have his fingers that far apart, anyway. He's being careful not to drop us... hm! I wonder... if I **did** fall, would he catch me?"

"**Don't** try to find out!"

Naiya chuckled.

"Oooh... Naiya! You're impossible!" Rami pouted half-heartedly, trying not to smile.

"I'm a hradani; I'm **supposed** to be impossible."

"I thought that saying ended with 'stubborn'?"

"That, too," her companion said cheerfully.

"Um... why have you been calling the demon 'he'?"

Naiya looked surprised. "Am I...? Hm! I don't know... it just sounds right. He certainly seems too much like a person to be an 'it'."

"I guess so..." Rami said doubtfully, looking up at the smooth metal face above them. She shivered as greenish-white glowing eyes looked directly at her for a moment, then returned to scanning the path ahead.

- - - - - -

Wufei had more things to worry about than furry ears. For one thing, he wasn't entirely sure he could trust his perceptions.

While the two girls looted their former captors' baggage, he'd taken the time to do a little first-aid. The battle with OZ, and then the rough trip here, had resulted in quite a few bruises where he'd been flung against his seat harness; he was used to that, and just ignored them. The injuries from when he'd been pelted with the contents of his toolbox were almost all superficial, though he'd cleaned several oozing scrapes and bandaged one rather nasty puncture on his thigh. But when he'd stripped off his tank top to check the damage he was **sure** he'd felt-

_-flying along the corridor alone, no Gundam, no Nataku, just him alone feeling the ache of wounds across his chest and back as the energy poured painlessly through his body-_

-there was nothing.

Wufei frowned, rubbing the heel of one hand across his chest. That had been bad enough - though he had to admit, given what had been happening to him at the time, a minor physical hallucination was... understandable.

But what had happened afterwards...

After he'd picked up the two girls in Nataku's hand, he'd begun to move forwards, but had found himself transfixed by the sight of the bloodstained altar stone. Looking at it, he could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck starting to prickle. It was the same feeling he'd had as a child, gasping into wakefulness after a nightmare, when he couldn't see anything in his room but there was a horrible weight on his chest and a **presence** and he **knew**-

It was **wrong**.

It shouldn't exist.

**He hated it.**

And without a second thought, he'd brought Nataku's foot down on top of the stone with her full weight behind it, shattering it into fragments.

He shuddered, wrenching his mind away from the memory and focussing determinedly on the tracks he was following. He didn't want- he wasn't **ready** to think about what he'd done next... Nataku's fire burning the canyon until there was nothing left but greasy smears across blackened stone, exulting in the pointless destruction-

_Stop it!_

Furry ears, he discovered, were becoming a welcome distraction.

* * * * *

"Can't you go any faster?!"

"We are tracking by **torchlight**, Gwent! If we go any faster we'll lose the trail. Besides, we've only three horses and twenty men. D'you really want to ride ahead and leave all the others behind?"

"We **have** to go faster! That's my **daughter** they took!"

"It's after being my own daughter too, man, and Derrin's as well," a deep voice cut in. "We'll not do the girls any good if we get there one by one or not at all."

A thin, balding man - Gwent - glared at the huge hradani walking by his horse. "And what if we get there too **late**, Cord?"

"Then I'm thinking we'll be sending those as killed them after our girls so they can be apologising for it in person," Cord rumbled, a dangerous glint in his eye. "But we'll get there later still if we lose the trail, little man, so just you be sitting quiet and let Terrin be doing his job."

_-thoom-_

The horses jibbed, snorting nervously as they felt the faint tremor in the earth.

"What was that?"

_-thoom-_

"There it is again!" Gwent yelped, shortening the reins as his horse - more used to pulling a wagon than being ridden - skittered sideways. "What is it? Where's it coming from?"

_-thoom-_

"I'm not certain," Terrin said, pressing his palms to the trail as he listened intently. "It's too faint to be sure, but-"

_-thoom-_

"-I think it's getting closer... coming from up ahead."

_-thoom-_

"Well what **is** it?!"

"How in Krahana's name should I know?!"

_-thoom-_

"You're the hunter here!"

"And I never hunted **anything** that walked **that** heavily!"

_-thoom-_

There was a horrified pause.

_-thoom-_

"You're saying that's after being footsteps, then?" Cord asked calmly.

"Can you think of anything else it **could** be?"

_-thoom-_

All the men looked at each other, clutching their weapons tightly.

"I can't."

_-thoom-_

"I wish I could!"

_-thoom-_

"I'm thinking maybe we should be putting the torches out."

"I think we should be **running**!"

_**-thoom-**_

Terrin shook his head, still crouched feeling the vibrations. "It's **much** closer already. We can't outrun it."

_**-thoom-**_

After a hurried discussion, the villagers spread out on either side of the trail in a hasty ambush. Some way ahead of the rest, Cord and Terrin crouched behind a screen of bushes and waited. The plan was simple; when whatever-it-was reached the midpoint of the ambush, the men who'd brought bows would loose at it. Cord and Terrin would come in behind it with axe and spear, and then the others would attack.

"All this is supposing yon beastie's a threat," Cord murmured softly to his companion, reaching back to make sure his forgehammer was securely looped to the back of his belt; he doubted it would be of any use, but it was a comfort. "We'll look a right pack of noddies if it's not."

"I promise to yell if I recognise it as harmless, how's that?" Terrin whispered. "Though I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a tad suspicious, since it's coming from the same direction that Phrobus-damned wizard went in."

"Aye, there's sense in that," Cord chuckled, then sobered. The heavy footsteps were strong enough to shake his whole body now, and he could hear the frightened whinnies of the horses from where they'd been tethered some way down the trail.

_Surely we should be seeing some sign of it by now-_

Something glinted in the moonlight above the trees, and he stiffened.

"Is that- how tall IS this thing?" Terrin whispered, shocked.

Then it stepped into view.

Cord stared, mouth open. Amazingly enough, there were no cries of fear from the other villagers behind him; he supposed, with the corner of his mind not occupied with watching the immense figure striding towards him, that they were all too shocked to scream. Beside him, Terrin was alternately blessing himself and blaspheming by the name of every god he could think of.

"A demon," Cord whispered. "Phrobus damn them to the deepest hells, those whoresons were after summoning a **demon**."

Terrin snapped his mouth shut, cutting his babble short as Cord's hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

"If we're after having a demon here," the hradani murmured into his ear, "I'm thinking we've no chance to save any of our girls at all, at all. That being so, I'm minded to start the payback with this big bastard. Are you with me?"

"Are you **insane**?!" Terrin hissed. "We can't kill that!" He twisted around, tearing his eyes away from the demon to glare at Cord, and was brought up short by what he saw in the moonlight. The hradani's face was almost calm, but something hot and hating glittered in his eyes.

When he spoke, though, his voice showed nothing of it. "You've chopped bigger trees than that lad's legs, man. Hamstringing should bring it down closer to our level, don't you think?"

"But-"

"And seeing as how it's headed straight down the trail to home, we'd best **try**."

Terrin closed his mouth, swallowed, and nodded.

- - - - - -

Wufei leaned closer to his screen, frowning as he tried to make out the tracks. The trail he was following now was broad and well-defined, almost a road; the tracks had joined it shortly after he'd left the maze of canyons and moved into forested terrain. Still, there were enough minor paths joining and crossing it - animal trails? - that he still needed to keep checking to make sure the tracks didn't swing off, and the false colour image enhancement mode he'd switched the screen to was giving him a headache.

He straightened suddenly, blinking. _Did something just move in the trees?_ Reflexively, he switched to infrared.

Human silhouettes flashed into view on the edges of the trail, sidling out of cover, each raising one arm towards him-

_Bows?! An ambush!_

- - - - - -

Some of the other villagers must have come to the same conclusion as Cord, for several bowstrings twanged as he and Terrin sprang out of hiding. Racing forwards as the giant feet paused, he felt the Rage sputtering at the back of his mind and let it loose, pouring its strength into his arms as he howled a wordless battlecry and swung at what he hoped was a vulnerable spot.

"NO NO NO DON'T SHOOT DON'T SHOOT LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

_Naiya?!_

Then his axe hit the back of the demon's leg with a tremendous CLANG! , and he swore and dropped it, fingers tingling.

_Armour? This thing's wearing __**armour**__?!_

The smith in him immediately started calculating how to make armour that large.

The father in him had other concerns. "Naiya?! Naiya, girl, are you there?" He looked around frantically.

"Father?! Up here!"

He looked up, puzzled, then circled the demon's feet as he heard another, more timid voice join his daughter's.

"Um... **please** don't shoot again! You nearly hit us... is my papa there too?"

"I'm here, baby!" Gwent yelled, running forward waving his bow. "Are you hurt?!"

"No-"

"Dena, are you there?!" Derrin cried out. "Dena?!"

No reply.

"Dena?"

Naiya's voice came again, hesitantly. "I'm... I'm sorry, Derrin, but..."

Cord peered upwards, barely registering that Terrin had moved to put a comforting arm around his twin's shoulders as he sagged.

The giant demon stood calmly, glowing green-white eyes regarding the swirl of tiny mortals around its feet without visible concern. One hand was cupped against its chest, cradling something; the other was curved around it protectively. Something pale moved behind the fingers, then a hand pushed out between them and waved.

"Naiya... what in the name of all of Fiendark's furies are you doing up **there**?"

"It was his idea!" she called down, sounding rather defensive. "Hold on; I'll see if I can get him to put us down."

'His? Him?' Cord mouthed silently. More villagers crept out of hiding as nothing horrible happened to the others.

"Hello? Excuse me? Sir Demon?"

'Sir?!'

Naiya's head was suddenly visible above the demon's hands; she seemed to be standing up. She waved one hand at the glowing eyes, then knocked on the metal breastplate. "Hello?"

The demon's head shifted slightly to look at her.

"Could you put us down?" she called, pointing at the ground with exaggerated motions. "Down? Please?"

Its right hand uncurled from its shielding position, revealing Rami's face peeking over the edge of the other hand; then one finger pushed with the utmost delicacy on Naiya's shoulder until she sat down.

The villagers backed up quickly to give the demon room as it carefully knelt and lowered its burden to the ground. As they watched, one of the bowmen reached up and clapped a hand on Cord's shoulder.

"Well, Naiya's always been one to have strange pets follow her home," he said, with slightly forced cheer. "This one's just a bit **big**..."

Cord flattened his ears as he glared half-heartedly at the man. "That's not after being funny at all, at all."

* * * * *

Heero sat at his laptop, typing doggedly away in his search through OZ's computers for info about Wufei. He was just **waiting** for that little voice at the back of his head to dig at him again.

He wasn't disappointed.

_'Are you happy now?'_

-takatakatakatakataka-

_'Did you prove something there?'_

-takatakatakatakataka-

_'Are you __**proud**__ of hurting him?'_

-TAKATAKATAKATAKATAKA-


	5. Chapter 4

The village was in chaos.

First, they'd been attacked by masked raiders. The grain fields had been set alight to draw most of the men away; then the soldiers had ridden in, cut down the few remaining defenders, and snatched three teenage girls. When the hastily-assembled rescue party had marched off in pursuit, nobody had expected them to come back successful. Some hadn't expected them to come back at **all**. Still, they had returned, unhurt, bringing with them two of the kidnapped girls, the body of the third...

...and a demon.

A very **large** demon.

The three men with horses had ridden on ahead of the rest - partly to warn the village what was coming, and partly because their mounts were determined **not** to stay anywhere **near** the metal monster - so nobody ran away as it walked carefully into the village square at dawn and knelt to lower its burden to the ground. It was a close thing, though; mothers clutched children to them as they peered out windows at Naiya and Rami, stepping off the giant hand. They **seemed** all right...

Rami's mother wept and babbled in relief as she clutched her only child to her breast, dogs barked hysterically, Dena's mother and sisters started to keen as Derrin brought her body to their house, babies cried, old men waved hoes at the demon and shouted questions at the rescue party; the boldest children began to dart forward to touch the demon's feet, only to be shrilly scolded back by their mothers and clouted around the ear. Nobody could make sense of just what questions were being thrown around, much less make their answers heard; and over it all the demon towered, looking down calmly at the chaos around its feet.

Wufei leaned back in his chair and watched the hysterical mob on his screen.

_I don't think I'll come out just yet._

He yawned tiredly, and propped his head on one fist to wait.

Finally, some semblance of order was imposed. Royce, the village headman, hadn't been making much headway on calming everyone down until Cord added a leather-lunged bellow to his efforts.

"**SHUT UP!**"

Dozens of pairs of eyes stared at him in the sudden silence.

"I'm thanking you," he said graciously. "Now, I think Royce was after having something to say?"

"*ahem* **Thank** you, Cord." Royce raised a grizzled eyebrow at the huge hradani and got an innocent look in response. "Now then! There's nothing to be gained from everyone yelling at once, so if everyone could just be quiet while Naiya and Rami tell what happened, I'd appreciate it. And I see you sneaking over there with that spear, Manten! I'll thank you **not** to start anything with the demon until we know what's going on!"

"It likely wouldn't do any damage," Cord commented as the teenager sulkily put the boarspear down. He exhibited his huge axe, now with the edge rather crushed and bent. "That lad's armour is tougher than anything **I've** ever forged or seen, that's for sure!"

Royce turned to the two girls. "Well?"

Rami blinked huge blue eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. "I- I- I was so **scared**!" Bawling, she threw herself into her mother's arms.

"I guess that leaves me to tell it," Naiya said dryly. _She was starting to act almost sensible until she got back with her parents!_

Some time later...

Royce scratched his head. "Well... I think we can say for sure this demon's not one of Sharna's get."

Naiya nodded wearily from her perch on the demon's foot, where she'd settled down half way through her explanation. "The priest looked awfully surprised when he appeared, like he wasn't what was expected. And he **did** kill the priest!"

"Well, now, I've heard that all demons hate their summoners for binding them, so that's not such a good sign of its intentions; but leaving the two of you alive, that's not something one of old Demon Breath's creatures would do. Let alone destroying the altar and burning the canyon clean! No, that priest made a mistake somewhere. Still, the question is, what **is** it? What does it want? And what do we **do** about it?"

"All I know is, I'm sure **he** isn't evil," Naiya said, emphasising the pronoun pointedly. "And-"

There was a low grumbling sound, and the demon shifted its weight slightly. Naiya jumped down off its foot and backed away to stand by her father as the people who'd sat down around the square to listen stood up nervously.

"What's it doing?" Royce whispered as the demon settled down on one knee.

"I don't know! Maybe his feet are tired! Mine certainly are, and **I** wasn't walking all night," Naiya shot back under her breath.

The light in the demon's eyes died out, and then there was a soft 'pssht!' sound as a section of armour on the demon's torso swung downwards. Another piece of armour, just behind it, slid up into the chest-

-and a young **man** walked out to stand, arms folded, staring arrogantly down his nose at the gaping villagers.

-takatakatakatakataka-

_'Why are you watching the clock? __**Trowa's**__ going to be waking him up, not you.'_

Hn.

'Oh, was that

_**another**__ touch of jealousy?'_

Why should I be jealous? There's nothing between us.

'And after that performance, I'm not surprised! If

_**I**__ were Duo, I'd never forgive you.'_

Heero winced internally at that.

_'That's a point for my side, I believe.'_

The insistent little voice fell silent as Trowa rose wordlessly and went upstairs.

"Duo? Duo, you have to wake up."

"Why bother? I give up." Duo's voice was dull, listless.

"Duo..."

There was the rustle of bedclothes as Duo rolled over, then a soft sigh from Trowa.

Outside in the dark corridor, Heero flinched. The defeat and hopelessness in Duo's voice... He waited for the little voice to speak up, to claim another point, but there was nothing but silence.

Wufei looked down at the throng below, open-mouthed faces staring up at him. _Well... they aren't going to understand this, but I have to start somewhere!_

Drawing in a deep breath, he hoped he didn't look - or sound - as nervous as he felt.

"My name is Wufei! And yours?"

He grimaced inwardly as he realised he'd spoken in Japanese, not Chinese; but he'd been speaking Japanese and English almost exclusively for two years, and habit is a wonderful thing.

"Ore no namae wa Wufei! Omae wa?"

The villagers exchanged blank looks and shrugs.

"Well, that last bit sounded like a question..." Royce muttered. He glanced briefly at Cord and Naiya, but the hradani just flicked their ears and shrugged; so he swallowed and stepped forwards. The new demon's unnaturally dark eyes were on him instantly.

"Ah... begging your pardon... sir," he bowed tentatively, "but we don't understand. Do you know this language?"

The demon frowned slightly, and said something in what sounded like a different language; then a third, surprisingly musical and sing-song.

"Sorry... sir. We don't understand that either." Royce turned and looked at Cord again. "I know **you** know a couple more languages; want to try?"

Cord shrugged. "None of 'em sound anything like that lad's tongue, but I'll try." Stepping forward, he spoke first in one of the hradani dialects, then something Royce thought was Sothoii; he recognised a few words when Cord tried Axeman.

The demon listened intently as the hradani spoke, but showed no signs of understanding. When it was clear nobody was going to try any more languages, he seemed to sigh, slumping slightly; then he jumped to the larger demon's knee and down to the ground.

Stepping forward to stand before Royce, he pointed at himself. "Wufei." Then at the giant behind him. "Nataku." Then at Royce, raising an inquiring (and arrogant) eyebrow.

"Well, I understood **that**," Royce muttered; then he pointed at himself. "Royce."

The demon smiled wryly and bowed, hands held out to the sides. "Royce. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

"Er... pleased to meet you, I'm sure, Wufei. Welcome to our village."

When morning came, Heero hadn't slept, though he'd gone to his room to lie on the bed for a while. He was pretty sure Trowa hadn't either; after all, he'd been waking Duo up every hour...

He stalked downstairs, cold blank mask firmly in place, to check his laptop for the results of the searches he'd been running.

"Anything?" Trowa's calm voice came from the chair in front of the TV.

_Has he been there watching the news all night?_ "Nothing relevant... there's some data on Wufei, but it's all old stuff. Speculation, mostly. A note to field commanders when his colony was destroyed, warning that he might be more likely to try a suicide attack... that sort of thing. You?"

Trowa shrugged slightly. "They now know the explosion was the result of a battle; there's been helicopter footage of the site and a surprisingly accurate estimate of OZ losses. Normal OZ procedure would be to keep reporters away from the area and issue a statement about 'colony aggression beaten back with minor casualties', but not this time. The aerial footage of the battlefield showed people moving around, but without organisation; I didn't see any signs of strong leadership."

Trowa's laptop beeped.

Heero watched intently as Trowa opened up a message and scanned it, then closed the laptop. "Mission?"

"No. The doctors want complete battle logs from all four Gundams, plus reports on the systems problems we experienced after the explosion."

"I'll get Wing's and Deathscythe's." Heero badly wanted to ask Trowa 'how is Duo', but stayed silent. _It's none of my business._

'It could be. It

_**should**__ be, even if you only care about his fitness for missions.'_

He ignored the voice, and went to get the data.

Quatre woke up, feeling much better than he had the day before. Lying in bed, he tried to remember what had happened; it was all rather blurry after the first shattering realisation that Wufei was... gone.

_Was I in shock?_ he thought, determinedly blinking away fresh tears. _I suppose so..._ Sitting up, he glanced over at the other bed, and was surprised to see a knot of blankets with a long braid trailing out of it.

_Duo? He was hurt... I suppose they put us in here together to keep an eye on us both._ He considered calling out, but there was a definite feeling of pain and 'keep away' echoing in his heart, so he got out of bed as quietly as possible and made his way downstairs.

"Trowa? Heero?" he called quietly. There was no answer, but both their laptops were set up in the lounge room and the TV was on, sound turned down low.

His eye suddenly caught by the TV screen, he stared incredulously, then ran over and stabbed at the volume control.

[ [Again, repeating our footage of the announcement just made by Lady Une of OZ...] ]

"Duo! Duo, wake up!" Quatre threw himself into the room and tugged at the roll of blankets. "Duo!"

"What?" Bloodshot eyes peered at him out of a bruised face.

"Duo, the war's over! OZ has surrendered! Kushrenada committed suicide last night!"

"Oh. Yippee."

Quatre stopped, brought up short by Duo's reaction. "...Duo?"

"Go away, Quatre."

Trowa and Heero walked back into the safe house to find Quatre sitting on the sofa, holding the remote control and watching TV. The sound was muted, but they seemed to be showing a looped film clip of Lady Une... crying?

"Quatre! How are you feeling?" Trowa stepped forwards, but stopped when his lover looked up with his 'boardroom face' on - cold, professional, and without any sign of softness in it.

"I have two pieces of information for you, gentlemen," Quatre said coolly. "One; the war is over-"

"What?!"

"-and two; Duo doesn't care." He stood up and dropped the remote onto the coffee table. "What **did** I miss?"

Heero's mask cracked for just an instant as pain and doubt flashed over his face; then the cold unemotional front was back. "Nothing important," he said curtly, sitting down at his computer and handing two disks to Trowa. "Here; you send these."

As Trowa took the disks, he flicked a quick look at Heero, then upwards to where footsteps were making their way slowly down the corridor. "I'll explain later."

The muscles along Heero's jaw clenched, and he hit the keys with more than necessary force as he started a new search.

Quatre shot Trowa an 'Oh-you-just-**bet**-you're-gonna-explain' look, then turned and smiled brilliantly as Duo limped down the stairs. "I was just going to make breakfast; do you want anything in particular, Duo?"

"I'm not hungry," he said flatly.

Quatre stared wide-eyed at **that**, coming from **Duo**, and even Trowa turned around from sending the data to the doctors. Heero's typing didn't slow down, but he had to go back and delete several characters.

Duo glanced up at Quatre and Trowa with dull, uncaring eyes. "...Thanks anyway," he added as an afterthought. "I'll just make myself some coffee."

"O... okay, Duo," Quatre managed. "If you're sure..."

"Yeah." His eyes lingered briefly on the back of Heero's head; then he turned away and limped into the kitchen.

Trowa sent off the message and reached for the remote, avoiding Quatre's eyes; he flicked the mute button and brought the sound back up. Lady Une was unfolding a piece of paper, slow tears trickling down her cheeks.

-left this note, she said. "I intended to build a world fit for the soldiers of the future, but it seems they have reached out and taken it from my hands. I bear them no ill will; I wish them joy in the world they will create, and only wish I c-could stay to- to see its b-birth-"

Both laptops beeped.

"A mission?" Quatre asked, muting the TV again as Trowa read the message.

"Yes."

"I'll get Deathscythe ready," Duo said from the kitchen door.

"Duo, you're hardly in any shape to-" Quatre protested.

"The state you're in, you'd just get in the way," Heero snapped. "Trowa and I will handle it."

Duo's eyes, which had been showing a tiny spark of life, went flat and dead again. "Oh, that's right; I'm useless," he said. "Thanks for reminding me, Heero. I forgot for a moment." And he turned around and shuffled back into the kitchen.

Trowa shot a cold glare at Heero as he stood and picked up his computer. "Nice work, Yui. First you stab him, then you twist the knife. What are you going to do for an encore?"

Heero rose and stalked out.

As Trowa glared after his retreating back, a small hand grabbed the front of his turtleneck and dragged him down to face Quatre's furious blue gaze. "What the **hell** happened last night?!" the smaller boy snarled.

Trowa swallowed nervously and motioned 'quiet!', glancing towards the kitchen. Quatre's voice dropped to a hiss, but he didn't let go.

"Tell. Me. **Now**."

"Um... short version..." Trowa took a deep breath and talked fast. "Duo was concussed, thought he was dreaming, and kissed Heero last night when he went to wake him up; at least, I think so, since Heero told me to wake him up the next time, and he nearly kissed **me** thinking I was Heero. Then I made Heero go to wake him the next time - I thought it would force him to face how Duo feels about him and vice versa - and I don't know **what** happened, but something went badly wrong. Duo came downstairs after him and yelled at him for 'trashing him in his sleep', and then just... gave up." Trowa's voice dropped even further. "Quatre, I'm worried! I've never seen him so... defeated. Could you look after him while we're gone? We shouldn't be long, this mission's just a quick infiltration and data retrieval job."

Quatre looked thoughtful, his hand relaxing its grip slightly; then he looked up seriously into Trowa's eyes. "So... Duo's best friend is missing, possibly dead, and now Heero's done something that makes him feel completely worthless and unwanted. That about it?"

Trowa nodded. "He feels guilty about not warning Wufei in time, too. Damn it, Quatre, this is at least partly my fault and I don't know what to **do**!"

Quatre flattened his hand against Trowa's chest and rubbed gently, comforting. "Well, Heero's broken him, and **somebody's** got to fix it." He looked away from Trowa's eyes, seemingly fascinated by his own hand drawing slow circles. "If Heero won't... Wufei could have helped, he was closest to Duo and might have..." He blushed slightly. "If Heero keeps on being an asshole, we may have to do something to, uh, show Duo that someone cares... someone **does** want him. Um... are you okay with that?"

Trowa smiled in relief, reaching out to cup Quatre's cheek gently. "Yeah. We can do that."

When Trowa walked into the hangar, Heero was just walking out from behind Deathscythe.

"What were you doing back there?"

Heero didn't look at him. "Disabling the self-destruct."

"Ha!" Trowa muttered, just loud enough to be heard. "First good idea you've had all day."

As Heero swung himself into Wing's cockpit, a familiar little voice spoke up. _'So, you finally realise what you've done, hm?'_

Quatre moved gracefully around the kitchen, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as he assembled breakfast. Since he was trying to get a response out of Duo, he was concentrating on two topics that normally would have been guaranteed to start up a lively discussion: food and the mission.

"I know I'm not exactly the best cook, but I think I can manage pancakes. We have maple syrup, or would you prefer lemon juice and sugar?"

"There's bacon and eggs, if you'd rather have that."

Since the topic of food wasn't getting him anywhere, Quatre switched tactics.

"I hope the mission is as easy as Trowa thinks it will be," he said, putting a glass of orange juice down in front of the braided boy. "The doctors want them to break into an OZ research base located near where our last battle was; they think it's where that new energy weapon was developed. They want to get full info on it before OZ can destroy all their records." He glanced sideways at Duo as he piled pancakes onto two plates and poured maple syrup over the top.

Duo didn't say anything, but he reached out and started turning his empty coffee mug around in his hands.

_That __**might**__ have been a response..._ Quatre thought, frustrated.

He sat and ate his pancakes in silence, trying to think of something - anything! - that would get a reaction out of Duo. At the other side of the table, Duo shifted bits of his pancakes around and drew patterns in the syrup with his knife.

_I have to get through to him __**somehow**__. Almost anything would be better than this! Even if I make him angry at me, if it gets him out of this withdrawal..._

Well... Trowa

_**did**__ say it was okay..._

Making up his mind, Quatre stood up and walked around to stand next to the other boy.

"Duo?"

There was no answer, so he reached out and gently tipped Duo's chin up, forcing him to look away from his plate.

"Duo..." And he leant down and kissed him on the lips.

Quatre didn't try to make the kiss any more than a gentle, friendly pressure, but he stroked his fingertips along Duo's jaw and down the bared throat, trying to show without words exactly how much he was offering. He drew back slowly and looked into wide violet eyes.

_Okay, confusion __**is**__ sort of a response. It's a start, anyway._ "Duo, if you want to talk... or anything... Trowa and I-"

He broke off as confusion shifted to sorrow, unshed tears glittering in Duo's eyes; then the shutters came down again and Duo stood, blank-faced, and walked out.

Quatre was left standing in the empty kitchen, looking at the congealing syrup on Duo's plate. He sighed, raking one hand through his hair. "Well, I got a response. It wasn't the one I **wanted**, but it was a response." He started clearing the table. "Damn it, Heero Yui, when you get back... omae o korosu!"

Wufei scrubbed his hand briefly over his eyes and blinked, struggling to focus properly.

_How long have I been awake?_

It took a while, but eventually he worked out that it'd been well over twenty-four hours since he had last slept - at least, if he didn't count passing out after the explosion - and it hadn't exactly been a peaceful time. What with adrenaline fatigue, injuries and plain tiredness, he was well on the way to passing out on his feet.

_I don't have time to be __**weak**__!_ he thought angrily, and tried to concentrate on what the grey-haired man, Royce, was attempting to explain.

Naiya scowled, concerned, as the small demon swayed slightly on his feet.

"All right, that's enough for now!" she said abruptly, stepping forwards. Royce and demon both looked around at her; the demon scowled, but it's hard to look threatening when your eyes are crossing with fatigue, and Naiya wasn't about to be afraid of someone who only came up to her shoulder, demon or not.

"Lass, we need to-"

"Can't it wait until he's **slept**?" She waved a hand at the startled demon. "**Look** at him! Gods know **I'm** tired, and I haven't done **half** of what he has! He's exhausted, he's **wounded** - I think they were fighting before they were summoned, the big one's armour is damaged and seeing as how it's so hard that must've been a **dangerous** opponent. Even if he could speak our language, right now I **don't** think he's in any shape to answer questions!" She spun around to look at Cord. "Father, he can stay with us, can't he?"

Cord spread his hands helplessly. "Aye, girl, he can stay."

"Good!" Naiya turned back to the demon. "Wufei, yes?" She pointed at herself; "Naiya," then at her father; "Cord." Then she simply reached out, grabbed Wufei's wrist, and started walking.

He yelped in surprise, stumbling after her. "Onna!"

"No, it's 'Naiya'."

He sighed and dug in his heels. "Onna, onna, onna, onna, onna," he said, pointing to various women with his free hand; then he started pointing at men. "Otoko, otoko, otoko, otoko, otoko. Ne?"

"Ah... I see!" She started pointing, starting with herself. "Woman, woman, woman, woman, woman; man, man, man, man, man." She mock-glared at him, slanting her ears back. "But it's not **polite** to just call me 'woman'. **Nai-ya**!"

"Hai, hai, wakatta," he said, rolling his eyes, a slight smile twitching one corner of his mouth up. "Naiya."

"Good!" She smiled brilliantly at him, then started walking again.

"Oi! Nani o shiteiru?! Doko e?" He twisted his arm free and glared.

"I'm thinking you'd best try to explain, lass," Cord said, amused.

"All right... um... Wufei, Naiya, Cord," she pointed at their house, "over there; eat, then sleep," she said, miming.

He looked doubtful for a moment, but nodded; then he pointed back at the giant demon. "Matte, kudasai. Nataku ni chotto..."

"Um... I don't know what we can do about **him**-" Naiya watched nervously as Wufei walked over to Nataku and reached up, patting at the giant leg; he caught something that swung down to him from the opening and was lifted into the air, rising smoothly until he could step onto the sticking-out armour plate. He vanished inside, and it closed behind him; then Nataku's eyes glowed to life again and it/he stood up. It moved only a few steps, over to the ancient tree that shaded one side of the square, then sat down and cautiously leaned back against the trunk. It creaked loudly, but held.

The glow in the eyes died again, the armour opened, and Wufei stepped out; this time, the opening closed behind him as he jumped down to the ground and walked back.

Royce intercepted him. "Uh... does Nataku need to eat? Food? What does it want?"

Wufei looked surprised, then tiredly amused; he shook his head. "Iie. Nataku wa... neru.[6] Sleep," he said, carefully pronouncing the foreign word.

"Oh. Well, **that's** a relief," Royce muttered.

Naiya studied Wufei as he nodded over his half-eaten bowl of stew, spoon slipping out of his fingers. _He's even more tired than I thought!_ she mused, fighting to keep her own eyes open. _He looks much younger when he isn't glaring... rather handsome, too, even with those strange eyes._

She considered her strange guest...

He looked almost human, except for his eyes - slanted and **black**, an impossible colour and rather frightening - and the warm gold tint to his skin. Humans came in a wide range of shades, but none quite like him; and although black hair **was** possible, she'd never seen anyone with hair so uncompromisingly straight. A wisp had escaped the tight, short tail at the base of his neck and fallen forwards over his eyes, incredibly fine strands drifting in every current of air. Naiya had to stop herself from reaching forwards to touch it and see if it was as soft as it looked. Yes, with those threatening demon eyes half-closed and veiled behind long black lashes, he looked **much** more approachable.

His clothes were strange too, cloth finer than anyone but a lord would own. A tight black sleeveless top clung to his torso, embroidered with a multicoloured twining snaky beast; it was tucked into high-waisted white pants tied with a black sash. Black leather wristbands and low black soft slippers made up the last of his outfit.

There were fresh scrapes and cuts down his arms, along with a few faint marks of old injuries; a giant bruise was purpling one shoulder under the top, and a bloodstained tear in one pants leg hinted at worse injuries, but he'd ignored them all as he moved earlier. Perhaps, to him, they weren't anything to speak of? The damage to the giant Nataku's armour certainly suggested that far worse was possible where they came from...

Cord interrupted Naiya's revereie with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'd best get the lad to bed before he falls flat on his face," he said softly, "and you should sleep too. He can have my bed; I've work to do in the forge. Nay, leave that!" as she started to clear the table. "I'll take care of it before I go."

Wufei jerked upright and blinked hazily as Cord shook him. "Come on, lad; time to go..."

Wufei settled into warm softness, barely aware of huge hands drawing the covers up over him. As much as he wanted to stay alert and wary, his exhausted body had its own ideas.

_I wonder... are the others okay?_ he thought as he slipped into sleep. _Did they win?_


	6. Chapter 5

Wufei opened his eyes and blinked in confusion.

_Why am I sleeping in a cupboard?_ Sitting up, he looked around. _Admittedly, it's a very __**comfortable**__ cupboard..._

It was a very **large** cupboard, too, with a thick featherbed, pillows and warm quilts in it, all scaled for someone considerably bigger than him; for a moment, Wufei felt like a small child tucked into an adult bed. Shifting quietly to the side, where light shone in through the slightly open doors, Wufei pushed one further open and peered out.

Warm afternoon sunlight streamed into the room through an unshuttered window - along with a gentle breeze, since there was no glass to block it. A low-burning fire, rag rugs on the wood floor, white plastered walls with faint smoke stains above the fireplace and between the heavy beams supporting the high ceiling. Bundles of dried herbs and several joints of smoked meat dangled from the beams above a heavy wooden table and chairs.

He frowned, pushing the door completely open and swinging his legs out. There was something... off... about the room... Then he realised.

_Of course! This is their house - Naiya and... Cord, that's it. Everything is sized for them, and __**he's**__ nearly eight feet tall, if my memory isn't playing tricks on me..._

Wufei frowned again, remembering other tricks his mind had played recently, and rubbed one hand across his chest as phantom pain seemed to twinge there for a second.

_This is ridiculous! I'm __**not**__ wounded there! It's not as if I don't have __**real**__ injuries to care for._

Still, he found his fingers tracing out invisible outlines. One small puncture just below his left ribs; two more just below and to the right of his left nipple; one in the hollow above his right collarbone, covered by the bruise left by his seat harness but not hidden by it. A similar scatter ran across the middle of his back, with one especially sharp pain over his left kidney. Somehow, the phantom wounds felt more real, at that moment, than the cuts and bruises he could **see** on his arms-

Wufei froze, staring at his arms. Those cuts and bruises were nearly healed. Pale greenish-yellow smudges were all that was left of some of them; the huge bruise on his shoulder was still purple and black in the centre, but the edges were blurred and fading. Dry scabs were flaking away from the minor cuts, leaving behind only faint red welts.

_What- how- how long did I __**sleep**__?!_

He scrambled to pull off the hard leather bracer on his left wrist, staring at the flat watch hidden underneath.

_...only ten hours?_

- - - - - -

Naiya pegged her dress onto the line (bloodstains **finally** scrubbed and soaked out), and leaned backwards, hands in the small of her back, stretching out the kinks that leaning over the washing copper always left behind. Straightening up again, she nearly dislocated her jaw with a huge yawn.

_Oooh... tea. I __**definitely**__ need tea. And Wufei could be awake; __**he**__ might like some tea too, and perhaps he'll let me see to those cuts? Not that I know __**what**__ to put on a demon's wounds, but surely cleaning them wouldn't do any harm..._

Walking into the main room of the oversized cottage, she found him sitting on the edge of her father's bed, peering at his arm.

"Good afternoon! Are you hungry? Eat? Would you like some tea?" He jumped and stared at her, wide-eyed, before recovering his usual poise; she smiled. "Sorry... didn't mean to startle you." Turning away, she swung the hanging kettle over the fire and began to make tea.

_He's got to learn to speak to us; now's as good a time as any._ "Wufei?" She beckoned him over and started pointing to things. "Table. Chair. Kettle. Fire. And tea!" She grinned as she set a mug down in front of him; then she looked at his arm, surprised. "Eh... well now, I see why you didn't mind those cuts... I guess I **don't** need to do anything for them, hey?"

- - - - - -

After a quick breakfast - or dinner, perhaps, considering the time - Naiya managed to explain with gestures and a few words that this house only had two of the cupboard-beds, hers and Cord's, and she was going to fetch a third bed for Wufei. After she left, he decided to fetch his spare clothes from Nataku and check what damage the battle had caused.

Settling into the seat and bringing up the diagnostic programs, he was relieved to see that although there was a lot of cosmetic damage to Nataku's armour, only a few attacks had actually penetrated to affect the internal systems. There were a few systems failures elsewhere, caused when the heavy pounding actually managed to **shake** units loose, but most of that would just need connections fixed and systems recalibrated; and wonder of wonders, he actually had spares for all the damaged sensors!

Settling back, he called up a report.

| ARMOUR 89%  
| SENSORS 73%  
| MOBILITY 97%  
| AMMUNITION 47%  
| **RESUPPLY**

"I would if I could," Wufei muttered.

| WEAPONS 93%  
| COMPUTERS 98%  
| - HARDWARE 96%  
| - SOFTWARE 100%  
| NAVIGATION 20%  
| **NO BEACONS FOUND**  
| **NO LANDMARKS RECOGNISED**  
| **PLEASE INPUT LOCAL MAPS**

He snorted. "I **wish**!"

After the text report, a rotating line drawing of Nataku popped up, red highlights showing where armour had been breached and systems damaged.

_Let's see... one breach in the lower left torso, two left upper torso, one on the right shoulder... a diagonal line of minor damage across the back, with one major breach low on the left..._

Wufei's eyes widened, seeing the exact pattern of his phantom injuries repeated in Nataku's damage.

_I'm... __**feeling**__ where Nataku is hurt?! __**How**__?! Did- did that energy in the tunnel cause this? Does it have anything to do with the way my wounds healed?_

He reached out, hands trembling, and shut off the display.

_No. I don't have time for this. I, I have to learn enough of the language to find out what's going on, I have to look for a way to get home, I have to find out what happened to the others - I don't have __**time**__ for a, a, a weird metaphysical link to my Gundam!_

Though... I always felt that perhaps Meiran's spirit...

If... if I fix the damage and the pain goes away... I'll think about it then. Not now.

- - - - - -

Over the next couple of days, the demon Wufei picked up a surprising number of words and started trying for short sentences. (More often than not, the results were confusing; but he made progress.) The villagers quickly accepted him as a friend, if not exactly 'one of us'; Nataku was another matter, huge and frightening as he was, but all he seemed to do was sleep while Wufei mended things under his armour. After a couple more 'conversations', Wufei managed to get across that Nataku wasn't going to need food **ever**, and that soothed the major fears. ("No eat! No eat today. No next day. Next, next, next, no eat! Wakatta?") Dena's family were uncomfortable with him, but accepted that it wasn't his fault she had died; and he **had** avenged her death.

Of course, Rami had to complicate matters.

"Mana... what in the world gave you **that** idea?" Naiya asked, exasperated.

The other girl shrugged. "It's what Rami said. I take it you disagree?"

"Absolutely!"

"Well... he does stare at you a lot."

"Wufei is fascinated by my **ears**. He stares at my father, too! It does **not** mean he's in love with me!"

Mana was struggling to suppress a smile. "You have to admit," she said as seriously as she could, "it **does** provide an explanation of why he saved your lives. Rami thinks it's romantic! Love at first sight. Exotically handsome demon knight saves village maidens..."

"GAH! Rami needs to stop listening to bad travelling minstrels!"

The villagers also knew that they had to prepare for visitors; the sort of magic that summoned demons could be felt a long way away. Somehow, they had to explain this to Wufei. Surprisingly enough, it was Rami who came up with the idea of how to do it; and since nobody could think of a better one...

"Is everybody ready? Everyone know what they have to do?"

"Yep!"

"Right then!" Royce rubbed his hands together and turned to Wufei. "If you'll just sit here... sir... we've got something to show you."

Naiya, Cord and one of the village children stepped out. The child was wearing a black short smock tucked into his brother's white Festival trousers, and giggling; Cord had a 'breastplate' that had once been part of a large iron stove.

Naiya pointed at Cord. "Nataku!" Then at the child. "Wufei!" Looking anxiously at the **real** Wufei to see if he seemed confused - or worse, offended - she was relieved when he nodded, one hand creeping up to cover his mouth and a suspicious sparkle in his eyes.

Cord sat down and pretended to go to sleep, while the child paced back and forth in front of him. Jarad had been watching the fascinating demon whenever he could get away from his chores, had even helped with some of his language lessons, and knew **just** how to act. Standing arrogantly, he raised one eyebrow. "Hai! Wakatta? Yare yare." He shook his head, pulled a rag out of his waistband, and started polishing Cord's leg. A sound suspiciously like a snicker came from behind Wufei's hand.

Terrin ran into the square, pointed dramatically behind him, and yelled, "Lord Yithar!"

Immediately, Jarad yelped and started poking at Cord, who snorted awake and got up; the boy ran around behind him and pushed him over to the corner of the square, where he sat down again. Jarad sat on Cord's knee and fiercely 'shhhhhh'ed him, then two of the village women ran across and held up a blanket by the corners, hiding them from view.

A small parade made their way into the square. Manten was in the lead (wearing his finest clothes and half the jewellery Naiya and Rami had looted from the priest's baggage), followed by Derrin (wrapped in a sheet and wearing the rest of it). Half a dozen villagers marched after them, carrying various weapons and sneering arrogantly. The rest of the villagers, led by Royce, bowed and curtseyed.

Wufei's eyes narrowed as the pantomime continued. 'Lord Yithar' and Derrin were clearly asking all the villagers a question, and being met with denials.

_They keep saying 'krechak', and then the villagers say 'no'. I know that word... Naiya uses it for both Nataku and I. 'Bakemono' or 'demon', perhaps? So... they are looking for demons, and the villagers are hiding us..._

Suddenly, one of the women holding the blanket dropped it.

'Lord Yithar' screamed and ran away; the 'soldiers' shouted, ran forward and attacked Jarad. Cord jumped up and moved forwards, fists raised, but Derrin waved his hands, chanted and pretended to throw something, and Cord collapsed. Then the 'soldiers' turned and ran after the fleeing villagers, weapons swinging-

_Ah. That was... clear enough. If we're found here, everybody dies._ Wufei nodded to Naiya as she turned to him with a questioning look. "Yes. Understand."

It didn't take him long to get across the idea of he and Nataku leaving, but it was met with quick refusal; the villagers pantomimed them leaving, the searchers coming and leaving empty-handed, then Wufei and Nataku returning to a happy welcome. Wufei almost blushed; then he concentrated on asking 'where can we hide?'

**That** was a little harder to pantomime, especially when it came to explaining the sorts of places that would **work**. Finally, a thought occurred to Wufei, and he swore. _Why the __**hell**__ didn't I think of that before?_

Stalking over to Nataku, he clambered into the cockpit and dug into one of the storage compartments, coming back with a large flat wooden box and a sketchpad. Sitting down, he flicked to a clean page, took a soft black pencil from the ranks in the box, and started drawing.

Wufei was an excellent artist, and the villagers exclaimed in delight as quick strokes brought different scenes to life. Nataku sitting against the wall of a canyon with Wufei tending a small campfire, as searchers scratched their heads on the other side of a rockslide that had blocked it off; bubbles on the surface of a lake, with Nataku's silhouette dimly visible underwater; Nataku's feet and glowing eyes in a cave...

Terrin leaned forwards and tapped that picture. "There's a good, big cave in the Spinewall," he said, "a ways along from the canyons. It might be a bit of a tight squeeze, but I'm pretty sure Nataku will fit; and the entrance is in a sort of fold of rock, so you can't see it unless you get right up to it."

"Wouldn't the canyons work?" Naiya asked. "They go on for miles!"

Terrin shook his head. "We'd never be able to hide Nataku's tracks; the rocks are soft and there's loose stones all over the ground that he'd crush. Besides, they'll search the canyons. They'll have a mage or a Champion with them to take care of Sharna's priest, and they'll surely be able to tell that's where the summoning happened.

"What if they can sense Wufei and Nataku?" Rami asked.

"We hope they get away."

- - - - - -

Naiya tucked Wufei's clothes into a chest under a pile of blankets, then picked up the box and book and looked around, considering where to hide them. The small demon had pushed his belongings into her hands before he left with Terrin to hide Nataku, and she wanted them out of sight just in case the expected searchers checked houses.

Deciding on another chest, one holding winter clothes, she moved towards it... then changed her mind, and carried her burdens into the main room, setting them down on the table. After all... he'd just **handed** them to her. He wouldn't have done that if he wanted them kept secret, would he? And she'd glimpsed such beautiful colours as he flicked through the pages.

She pried carefully at the tiny catches on the box, nearly holding her breath as they clicked up and she gently raised the lid. A bewildering array of short coloured sticks met her eye; she touched them gingerly, then picked one up and peered at it. The one he'd used had been black; this one was red, but otherwise looked the same. She pressed the pointed tip gently against her finger, nearly squeaked at the bright mark it left behind, and hastily scrubbed it off on her skirt. Putting it back, she quickly closed the lid and refastened the catches.

Turning to the book, she opened the cover using just the tips of her fingers. The sheets within were finer than vellum and so white she was nearly afraid to touch them, for fear of leaving dirt behind. The first page had angular black markings on it, writing or a design, she didn't know; she turned to the next.

Several sketches of an unfamiliar bird covered the sheet; flying, perched on a twig with something in its beak, and sitting in a small round nest. Smaller sketches showed details of its head and feet. Every detail was meticulously drawn and coloured, to the point where Naiya was sure that if she ever saw the bird, she'd know it immediately.

The next few pages showed more birds, some plants, and a small cat curled up in the sun.

_There are cats where he came from? Strange! The birds are all ones I've never seen before... well, I recognise them as birds anyway, so I suppose some things are the same in any world._ She turned the page and gasped.

A young woman's face, remarkably similar to Wufei's, took up the whole page. This picture wasn't coloured, but it didn't need to be; there were the same slanted, dark eyes, the same fine black hair. Her expression was a strange mix of arrogance and sorrow.

Naiya was rather relieved when the next few pages were just birds and plants again; then the nature sketches abruptly stopped. The rest of the filled pages showed people... and demons.

The first few pictures were of demons like Nataku, using strange weapons to fight smaller demons. One had wings and a burning sword, another a flaming scythe; a third had two curved blades, and a fourth just seemed to be pointing something big and blurred as his opponents fell to pieces. Then there were more pictures of the giant demons, this time with young men drawn in front of them. A boy with messy brown hair glared from blue eyes as he pointed something threateningly; an absolutely **beautiful** violet-eyed boy, wearing black, with a long brown plait flicking out to the side; another beautiful boy, looking surprisingly like Rami, held out an empty hand and smiled sweetly; one stood with his hand on a large furry beast's fanged head, face half hidden by a smooth fall of hair.

It was the fifth of these drawings that really made Naiya stare. There was Nataku in the background, spinning a staff and lashing out with the fanged head on the end of his arm; but there were **two** figures in the foreground. Wufei stood back, shadowed, face almost blank, looking towards the girl from the earlier portrait. She was in an aggressive pose, almost mirroring Nataku, with her left fist clenched and a sword in her right, striking out with a shout. Her stance was dramatic, alive... but her skin and the flowing clothes she wore were strangely drained of colour; the outlines of Nataku's leg and body could be faintly seen **through** her.

_Who is she? A ghost?_

Naiya shivered, and turned the page.

Almost all of the remaining pages showed the four strange boys who seemed to be paired with giant demons as Wufei was. There were a couple of exceptions - a large black-bearded man looming protectively behind the beautiful blonde boy, and a smirking man with red-brown hair, tapping a sword in his palm as he stood in the wreckage of a richly decorated room. Naiya didn't much like his expression; somehow, she felt he was the kind of person who would decide what **he** thought other people needed, then do it - even if it killed them.

As she slowly paged through the rest of the book, Naiya found fewer and fewer pictures of three of the boys (_Boys? I suppose, if they're like Wufei, they're demons too?_), and more and **more** pictures of the one with the long plait. He bounced across the pages with a wicked grin and sparkling eyes, braid whipping behind him in elegant arcs; once he was running down a burning corridor, laughing.

There were only three pictures where he wasn't smiling. In one, he stood watching the messy-haired boy walk away, with an expression of barely-contained sorrow and longing. In the next, almost the last picture in the book, he was asleep, sprawled on his back under a light blanket with one arm stretched above his head and the other clutching his plait to his chest.

On the last filled page, he sat on a cushioned bench under a window, overlooking a rain-streaked landscape. One leg was drawn up to his chest, with his folded arms resting on the knee; he gazed out wistfully, long hair loose and tumbling in damp waves over his unbuttoned white shirt.

_Oh. Oh... how __**beautiful**__!_

Naiya closed the book, blushing slightly, and hid it and the box in the clothes chest; then she stood at the window, staring out.

_How can he draw such beautiful pictures when he sometimes seems so... closed off? Does he put in all the emotion he doesn't want to show on his face?_

And what _**does**__ he feel for that beautiful boy, to draw him so much... and like that?_

* * * * *

Quatre settled into a chair with a tired sigh, breathing in the wisps of steam from his cup of tea. Two days with an unresponsive, depressed, **quiet** Duo - two days where he'd had to coax Duo to eat, and had hardly dared sleep in case the braided boy did something final to himself - had really taken it out of him. Today, Duo had decided to take a shower; Quatre hadn't known whether to be happy that he was doing something so normal, or afraid that he'd use the sound of the water to make it seem as if everything was okay until it was too late. In the end, he'd spent over half an hour standing tensely outside the bathroom door, straining to hear Duo's movements and prepared to kick the door down if anything sounded wrong.

Taking the first sip of tea, Quatre closed his eyes and tried to relax. _Allah, I swear... if Duo gets back to his old self, I'll __**never**__ wish for him to shut up again!_

A crash of breaking glass and a soft *thud* came from upstairs; the fine porcelain teacup spun into the wall and shattered as Quatre catapulted out of his chair and ran for the door.

Skidding to a halt in Duo and Heero's room as the door slammed against the wall, Quatre looked around frantically. "DUO! Are you- oh."

Duo was sitting cross-legged on his bed, head in his hands, tangled hair leaving wet blotches on his t-shirt. His hairbrush was lying on the floor under a shattered mirror.

_Why did he do that?_ Quatre thought; then light dawned as Duo looked up and lowered his shaking hands into his lap. _He wore himself out washing his hair, and now he can't brush it. Well... at least I can help with __**this**__. If he lets me._

Picking up the brush, Quatre carefully checked to make sure no slivers of glass were stuck in it, then turned to Duo.

"May I?"

Duo shrugged.

_I'll take that as a 'yes'._

Settling carefully on the bed behind Duo, Quatre began working the brush carefully through the tangles. It didn't take long to get them out; with twenty-nine older sisters, he had had a **lot** of practice.

_If Heero doesn't get his act together, this could become a regular occurrence._

Hm.

I could live with that.

Duo abruptly spoke. "Wufei did this for me a couple of times when I was injured; he likes my hair. Even said it was beautiful." Pause. "I asked Heero once, but he just glared at me like I'd said something crude and walked off."

Quatre steamed. **Damn it, Yui-!** It was a struggle to speak in a normal voice, but he managed it. "Wufei was right; your hair **is** beautiful." Putting the brush down, he ran his fingers through the damp strands, spreading them over Duo's shoulders and his lap. "Heero's just- just..." _What can I say? Focussed? Fixated? Braindead? FRIGID?_ "...an insensitive idiot."

Duo shrugged. "Not like it matters now."

"It matters!" Quatre clutched handfuls of Duo's hair. "He didn't have to hurt you. That was cowardly."

"**Heero**? A coward?" Duo snorted bitterly. "Mr I-can-set-my-own-broken-bones? Shyeah!"

"**Physical** courage is **easy**," Quatre sniffed disdainfully, starting to plait. Inwardly, he was bouncing up and down gleefully as Duo started sounding a little more like his usual self. "We've all got **that**; no physical coward could pilot a Gundam. **Emotional** courage... the bravery to admit what you feel and **do** something about it... that's much harder. Heero can't manage it - not yet, anyway."

"Then... I guess I'm a coward too, huh?"

"We all are, to one degree or another."

"Oh?" One violet eye peered back at Quatre. "What about **you**? You grabbed Trowa pretty fast."

Quatre smiled. "What makes you think it was **me** who made the first move?" He tugged lightly at the finished braid, and stood up. "I'll fetch a broom and clean up the glass, okay? Don't cut your feet!"

"Ah, yeah. Sorry."

"It's not a problem."

Quatre made sure he was downstairs and well out of earshot before he punched the air in triumph. "Yesss! We have **progress**!"

After all the glass was swept up, Quatre stood with the dustpan in his hand and eyed Duo thoughtfully. "You look pretty tired; why not take a nap until dinnertime? What would you like, anyway? Your choice."

"Whatever." Duo shrugged. "I don't mind."

"Spaghetti, then. You like that." Quatre nodded decisively and marched out.

Duo flopped back on his bed, wincing as he jarred a bruise, and stared at the ceiling; then his eyes tracked slowly down to Heero's side of the room. He sat up again, and stared narrow-eyed at the neatly made bed.

_Emotional cowardice... huh. Both of us. Him trying not to feel anything, and me... me hanging around hoping that someday he'd __**do**__ something and I wouldn't have to risk it._

Well.

Time I stopped.

- - - - - -

Downstairs in the kitchen, Quatre looked up sharply at a series of thuds and bumps along the upstairs corridor.

_What the...?_ Carefully, he leaned out the door and listened. Limping footsteps went the other way; there was a pause; then the bumping started again. Intensely curious (and a little worried), he sneaked upstairs and peeked into the corridor.

Muffled swearing came from Heero and Duo's room; then Duo backed into the corridor, dragging the wooden rack he kept his antique CDs in. Quatre ducked back into the stairwell as he went past, then peered out in time to see the rack disappearing into Wufei's room.

Quatre was smiling slightly as he sneaked back downstairs, relieved and thoughtful at the same time.

_If anything can make Heero take action, this is it. And if he doesn't, Trowa and I __**will**__!_

- - - - - -

Duo flopped onto the spare bed in Wufei's room, exhausted. His belongings were piled in one corner waiting to be put away, his knee was throbbing, and he could feel every single one of his bruises yelling for attention; but somehow, he felt better.

Wincing, he pulled himself into a slightly more comfortable position, curled on his side looking across at the other bed. Clutching his braid, he sighed and closed his eyes.

"I wish you were here to talk to, 'Fei."


	7. Chapter 6

Heero was arguing with himself. One of the psychology textbooks he'd read as part of his studies had said this wasn't necessarily a bad thing... but he was **losing**.

That couldn't be good.

_..._

'Oh yes, the multipurpose statement. Next it'll be "hn".'

Shut

_**up**__._

'Not until you admit I'm right.'

'There it is again! Are we going to stand here all night?'

'You fantasise about his hair.'

I do NOT!

'You nearly had a heart attack the first time you saw him with his hair loose... freshly washed... clinging to his-'

Shut. Up. Now.

'Or what? "Omae o Korosu"? That'd be a bit tricky.'

'You've still got the same reaction to the sight. You've seen him like that what, four times?'

Five...

'You keep track! How _sweet_!'

Heero was positive that part of his mind was quietly laughing at him.

Downstairs, Trowa checked his watch.

_Heh... fifteen minutes and counting._

_'You know, it's pretty surprising that you've seen Duo with his hair down at __**all**__. He keeps that very... private. Personal.'_

It's unavoidable when we room together.

'You think so? Usually he combs it out wet and braids it in the bathroom, no matter WHO'S banging on the door to get in.'

'Think about it. Have any of the others seen it loose?'

How would I know?!

'Wufei's been alone with him on long-term missions a couple of times - ooh, was that a twinge of jealousy?'

_**NO!**_

'Just checking - anyway, you know he's ranted about "Maxwell's insufferable habit of locking himself in the bathroom EVERY morning, no matter WHAT else is going on, until that damn BRAID of his is PERFECT-" ...remember?'

'And if you've been rooming with him for most of

_**two years**__, and you've only seen his hair down __**five**__ times, do you honestly think he couldn't have avoided it?'_

'You're losing this argument, Heero. You

_**do**__ care.'_

Shut up.

'This argument itself is

_**proof**__.'_

...huh?!

'I quoted Wufei.'

So?!

'And you're so concerned about Duo, and the fact that you

_**might**__ have feelings for him, that you didn't - even for a heartbeat - think about what happened to Wufei today.'_

Heero's eyes widened and his fists clenched tighter as he realised... that annoying little part of his mind was **right**.

_'...I rest my case.'_

Duo jerked abruptly awake, shaken out of sleep by a rough hand on his shoulder.

"Wake up!"

_Huh? Heero sounds... angry? What's going on?_

Startled violet eyes met furious blue for an instant, before Heero spun on his heel and stalked out of the room. Staring up at the ceiling, Duo blinked, trying to clear his thoughts.

_What the HELL did I do to piss him off NOW?!_

Trowa glanced at his watch as Heero came down the stairs. _Nearly twenty minutes... hm. Looks like something went badly wrong._ He watched from under his bangs, maintaining the illusion that he was focussed on the TV, as Heero (in full Perfect Soldier Mode) stalked across to his chair and sat down.

The expected tapping of keys did not, however, start. One of Trowa's eyebrows lifted a millimetre. Heero was just sitting at the table, staring **through** his computer screen, stone-faced.

The sound of a door opening came from upstairs.

Trowa tracked the sound of unsteady footsteps as they made their way down the hall. Glancing back at Heero, he saw his hands clench into fists on the table; then he looked back at the stairs just in time to see Duo half-stagger, half-fall into view, clutching at the banister for support.

"Damn it Heero, who the **fuck** stuck a stick up your ass **this** time?!" Duo nearly spat the words at Heero, eyes blazing. "If that's the way you're gonna wake me up, I'd rather take the chance of dying in my sleep! At least it would be less **painful**! If you have a problem with me, **say** so. If you've got a problem with something else, then **don't** take it out on me, because I have enough things to worry about without wondering if you're gonna **trash** me in my **sleep**!"

Duo's mouth moved as if he wanted to say more, but then he pressed his lips together, glaring at the back of Heero's head. Trowa glanced across to see how the Japanese pilot was taking this, and wasn't particularly surprised to see that he hadn't reacted outwardly... other than to clench his fists even tighter.

A sigh came from the direction of the stairs, and then Duo's voice - still angry, but quieter. "Fine."

Then there was a slithering sound, a thud, and a loud hiss of pain. Trowa and Heero both spun around to see Duo on his hands and knees on the stairs, forehead pressed to one step, teeth clenched and tears of pain in his eyes. "Shit...!" he gasped quietly, then pushed himself up, grabbed for the banister and started trying to pull himself to his feet.

Heero had barely begun to stand when Trowa stalked past, shooting him an icy glare; as he dropped back into his seat, eyes wide in surprise, the taller boy was already at Duo's side helping him up.

"Daijoubu?"

"Yeah, yeah, daijoubu damnit. Just slipped and banged my knee, is all." Duo's voice was a shock, suddenly tired and defeated; Trowa had **never** heard him sound quite so depressed.

"Painkillers worn off?"

"You could say that."

"Right. Come on."

As gently as he could, Trowa got Duo back into bed - miraculously **not** waking Quatre - fed him painkillers, and checked his knee.

"It's no worse than it was."

"Great; that's a bright spot in my day. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up," Duo sighed. "What the hell did I do this time, man? I mean, I haven't pulled any tricks for at **least** a week, and then I just short-sheeted his bed; it's not like I did anything to Wing."

Trowa stayed silent, uncomfortably. Duo's voice was beginning to slur as the strong painkillers pulled him back into sleep.

"All I wanna do is keep everyone cheerful, keep us all together... and I want Heero to like me. I can't even get that right. I didn't warn Wufei in time, and now this..." Duo's eyes drifted shut. "Am I really... that much trouble... Trowa?"

"No."

Trowa wasn't sure whether Duo had heard him or not. He stayed a few minutes longer, studying the sleeping face; there was a slight unhappy frown there, and both hands were clutching the braid like a lifeline.

_Well, __**that**__ idea backfired miserably,_ he thought glumly. _This is my fault - and I don't know if I can fix it..._

Heero turned his head slightly as he heard Trowa coming down the stairs, but didn't look around; he just listened as the footsteps crossed the floor towards the TV, and then paused. When Trowa spoke, his voice was colder than Heero had ever heard it... except once, when Quatre had been injured.

"**I'll** wake him up from now on."

Piloting Nataku through a maze of interconnecting canyons, following a trail of hoofprints he **hoped** had been left by the robed man's entourage on their way in, Wufei glanced briefly at the two girls riding in Nataku's palm. _At least the blonde onna's got a grip on herself now. And the... taller one... is taking all this well._

The 'taller onna', as he insisted on thinking of her, had mid-brown hair that had been braided, then coiled around her head and into a bun by her neck. Perhaps he could term her the 'brunette onna'.

It was definitely easier than thinking of her as 'the one that isn't human'.

He'd taken a good look earlier, when he first picked them up, and it was definite. The blonde girl certainly looked human... actually, she reminded him rather of Quatre in drag, from that disastrous mission where three of the Gundam pilots had had to enrol at an all-girls school. Wufei quickly dragged his thoughts away from the memory of THAT indignity; Heero and Trowa had insisted that neither of **them** could 'pass', the cowards. In any case, whatever the blonde looked like, the brunette was entirely too tall, especially for a human from what seemed to be a medieval-level society; there was something odd about the bone structure in her face; and there was the small matter of...

...the ears.

His eyes kept wandering back to those ears.

Long.

Pointed.

**Furry**...

Wufei realised that he'd nearly missed a turn, and dragged his attention back to the tracks.

Naiya leaned forwards between two of the demon's fingers, peering into the dimness. "He must have **great** night vision; I can't see a thing!" She leaned further, craning her neck to look straight down. "Well, not quite... I can see a little, where the moonlight falls... but certainly not enough to backtrack horses, and that's what he seems to be doing. And he's so **fast**!"

From behind her, Rami spoke up in a worried voice. "**Please** be careful, Naiya! You'll fall!"

"Don't worry, I'm holding on. And he doesn't have his fingers that far apart, anyway. He's being careful not to drop us... hm! I wonder... if I **did** fall, would he catch me?"

"**Don't** try to find out!"

Naiya chuckled.

"Oooh... Naiya! You're impossible!" Rami pouted half-heartedly, trying not to smile.

"I'm a hradani; I'm **supposed** to be impossible."

"I thought that saying ended with 'stubborn'?"

"That, too," her companion said cheerfully.

"Um... why have you been calling the demon 'he'?"

Naiya looked surprised. "Am I...? Hm! I don't know... it just sounds right. He certainly seems too much like a person to be an 'it'."

"I guess so..." Rami said doubtfully, looking up at the smooth metal face above them. She shivered as greenish-white glowing eyes looked directly at her for a moment, then returned to scanning the path ahead.

Wufei had more things to worry about than furry ears. For one thing, he wasn't entirely sure he could trust his perceptions.

While the two girls looted their former captors' baggage, he'd taken the time to do a little first-aid. The battle with OZ, and then the rough trip here, had resulted in quite a few bruises where he'd been flung against his seat harness; he was used to that, and just ignored them. The injuries from when he'd been pelted with the contents of his toolbox were almost all superficial, though he'd cleaned several oozing scrapes and bandaged one rather nasty puncture on his thigh. But when he'd stripped off his tank top to check the damage he was **sure** he'd felt-

_-flying along the corridor alone, no Gundam, no Nataku, just him alone feeling the ache of wounds across his chest and back as the energy poured painlessly through his body-_

-there was nothing.

Wufei frowned, rubbing the heel of one hand across his chest. That had been bad enough - though he had to admit, given what had been happening to him at the time, a minor physical hallucination was... understandable.

But what had happened afterwards...

After he'd picked up the two girls in Nataku's hand, he'd begun to move forwards, but had found himself transfixed by the sight of the bloodstained altar stone. Looking at it, he could feel the fine hairs on the back of his neck starting to prickle. It was the same feeling he'd had as a child, gasping into wakefulness after a nightmare, when he couldn't see anything in his room but there was a horrible weight on his chest and a **presence** and he **knew**-

It was **wrong**.

It shouldn't exist.

**He hated it.**

And without a second thought, he'd brought Nataku's foot down on top of the stone with her full weight behind it, shattering it into fragments.

He shuddered, wrenching his mind away from the memory and focussing determinedly on the tracks he was following. He didn't want- he wasn't **ready** to think about what he'd done next... Nataku's fire burning the canyon until there was nothing left but greasy smears across blackened stone, exulting in the pointless destruction-

_Stop it!_

Furry ears, he discovered, were becoming a welcome distraction.

"Can't you go any faster?!"

"We are tracking by **torchlight**, Gwent! If we go any faster we'll lose the trail. Besides, we've only three horses and twenty men. D'you really want to ride ahead and leave all the others behind?"

"We **have** to go faster! That's my **daughter** they took!"

"It's after being my own daughter too, man, and Derrin's as well," a deep voice cut in. "We'll not do the girls any good if we get there one by one or not at all."

A thin, balding man - Gwent - glared at the huge hradani walking by his horse. "And what if we get there too **late**, Cord?"

"Then I'm thinking we'll be sending those as killed them after our girls so they can be apologising for it in person," Cord rumbled, a dangerous glint in his eye. "But we'll get there later still if we lose the trail, little man, so just you be sitting quiet and let Terrin be doing his job."

_-thoom-_

The horses jibbed, snorting nervously as they felt the faint tremor in the earth.

"What was that?"

_-thoom-_

"There it is again!" Gwent yelped, shortening the reins as his horse - more used to pulling a wagon than being ridden - skittered sideways. "What is it? Where's it coming from?"

_-thoom-_

"I'm not certain," Terrin said, pressing his palms to the trail as he listened intently. "It's too faint to be sure, but-"

_-thoom-_

"-I think it's getting closer... coming from up ahead."

_-thoom-_

"Well what **is** it?!"

"How in Krahana's name should I know?!"

_-thoom-_

"You're the hunter here!"

"And I never hunted **anything** that walked **that** heavily!"

_-thoom-_

There was a horrified pause.

_-thoom-_

"You're saying that's after being footsteps, then?" Cord asked calmly.

"Can you think of anything else it **could** be?"

_-thoom-_

All the men looked at each other, clutching their weapons tightly.

"I can't."

_-thoom-_

"I wish I could!"

_-thoom-_

"I'm thinking maybe we should be putting the torches out."

"I think we should be **running**!"

_**-thoom-**_

Terrin shook his head, still crouched feeling the vibrations. "It's **much** closer already. We can't outrun it."

_**-thoom-**_

After a hurried discussion, the villagers spread out on either side of the trail in a hasty ambush. Some way ahead of the rest, Cord and Terrin crouched behind a screen of bushes and waited. The plan was simple; when whatever-it-was reached the midpoint of the ambush, the men who'd brought bows would loose at it. Cord and Terrin would come in behind it with axe and spear, and then the others would attack.

"All this is supposing yon beastie's a threat," Cord murmured softly to his companion, reaching back to make sure his forgehammer was securely looped to the back of his belt; he doubted it would be of any use, but it was a comfort. "We'll look a right pack of noddies if it's not."

"I promise to yell if I recognise it as harmless, how's that?" Terrin whispered. "Though I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a tad suspicious, since it's coming from the same direction that Phrobus-damned wizard went in."

"Aye, there's sense in that," Cord chuckled, then sobered. The heavy footsteps were strong enough to shake his whole body now, and he could hear the frightened whinnies of the horses from where they'd been tethered some way down the trail.

_Surely we should be seeing some sign of it by now-_

Something glinted in the moonlight above the trees, and he stiffened.

"Is that- how tall IS this thing?" Terrin whispered, shocked.

Then it stepped into view.

Cord stared, mouth open. Amazingly enough, there were no cries of fear from the other villagers behind him; he supposed, with the corner of his mind not occupied with watching the immense figure striding towards him, that they were all too shocked to scream. Beside him, Terrin was alternately blessing himself and blaspheming by the name of every god he could think of.

"A demon," Cord whispered. "Phrobus damn them to the deepest hells, those whoresons were after summoning a **demon**."

Terrin snapped his mouth shut, cutting his babble short as Cord's hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

"If we're after having a demon here," the hradani murmured into his ear, "I'm thinking we've no chance to save any of our girls at all, at all. That being so, I'm minded to start the payback with this big bastard. Are you with me?"

"Are you **insane**?!" Terrin hissed. "We can't kill that!" He twisted around, tearing his eyes away from the demon to glare at Cord, and was brought up short by what he saw in the moonlight. The hradani's face was almost calm, but something hot and hating glittered in his eyes.

When he spoke, though, his voice showed nothing of it. "You've chopped bigger trees than that lad's legs, man. Hamstringing should bring it down closer to our level, don't you think?"

"But-"

"And seeing as how it's headed straight down the trail to home, we'd best **try**."

Terrin closed his mouth, swallowed, and nodded.

Wufei leaned closer to his screen, frowning as he tried to make out the tracks. The trail he was following now was broad and well-defined, almost a road; the tracks had joined it shortly after he'd left the maze of canyons and moved into forested terrain. Still, there were enough minor paths joining and crossing it - animal trails? - that he still needed to keep checking to make sure the tracks didn't swing off, and the false colour image enhancement mode he'd switched the screen to was giving him a headache.

He straightened suddenly, blinking. _Did something just move in the trees?_ Reflexively, he switched to infrared.

Human silhouettes flashed into view on the edges of the trail, sidling out of cover, each raising one arm towards him-

_Bows?! An ambush!_

Some of the other villagers must have come to the same conclusion as Cord, for several bowstrings twanged as he and Terrin sprang out of hiding. Racing forwards as the giant feet paused, he felt the Rage sputtering at the back of his mind and let it loose, pouring its strength into his arms as he howled a wordless battlecry and swung at what he hoped was a vulnerable spot.

"NO NO NO DON'T SHOOT DON'T SHOOT LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

_Naiya?!_

Then his axe hit the back of the demon's leg with a tremendous [ [CLANG!] ] , and he swore and dropped it, fingers tingling.

_Armour? This thing's wearing __**armour**__?!_

The smith in him immediately started calculating how to make armour that large.

The father in him had other concerns. "Naiya?! Naiya, girl, are you there?" He looked around frantically.

"Father?! Up here!"

He looked up, puzzled, then circled the demon's feet as he heard another, more timid voice join his daughter's.

"Um... **please** don't shoot again! You nearly hit us... is my papa there too?"

"I'm here, baby!" Gwent yelled, running forward waving his bow. "Are you hurt?!"

"No-"

"Dena, are you there?!" Derrin cried out. "Dena?!"

No reply.

"Dena?"

Naiya's voice came again, hesitantly. "I'm... I'm sorry, Derrin, but..."

Cord peered upwards, barely registering that Terrin had moved to put a comforting arm around his twin's shoulders as he sagged.

The giant demon stood calmly, glowing green-white eyes regarding the swirl of tiny mortals around its feet without visible concern. One hand was cupped against its chest, cradling something; the other was curved around it protectively. Something pale moved behind the fingers, then a hand pushed out between them and waved.

"Naiya... what in the name of all of Fiendark's furies are you doing up **there**?"

"It was his idea!" she called down, sounding rather defensive. "Hold on; I'll see if I can get him to put us down."

'His? Him?' Cord mouthed silently. More villagers crept out of hiding as nothing horrible happened to the others.

"Hello? Excuse me? Sir Demon?"

'Sir?!'

Naiya's head was suddenly visible above the demon's hands; she seemed to be standing up. She waved one hand at the glowing eyes, then knocked on the metal breastplate. "Hello?"

The demon's head shifted slightly to look at her.

"Could you put us down?" she called, pointing at the ground with exaggerated motions. "Down? Please?"

Its right hand uncurled from its shielding position, revealing Rami's face peeking over the edge of the other hand; then one finger pushed with the utmost delicacy on Naiya's shoulder until she sat down.

The villagers backed up quickly to give the demon room as it carefully knelt and lowered its burden to the ground. As they watched, one of the bowmen reached up and clapped a hand on Cord's shoulder.

"Well, Naiya's always been one to have strange pets follow her home," he said, with slightly forced cheer. "This one's just a bit **big**..."

Cord flattened his ears as he glared half-heartedly at the man. "That's not after being funny at all, at all."

Heero sat at his laptop, typing doggedly away in his search through OZ's computers for info about Wufei. He was just **waiting** for that little voice at the back of his head to dig at him again.

He wasn't disappointed.

_'Are you happy now?'_

-takatakatakatakataka-

_'Did you prove something there?'_

-takatakatakatakataka-

_'Are you __**proud**__ of hurting him?'_

-TAKATAKATAKATAKATAKA-


	8. Chapter 7

Quatre wandered towards the kitchen in his pyjamas, yawning behind his hand, vague thoughts of breakfast in his head.

_Coffee first. __**Definitely**__ coffee first... hm! Smells like someone already made a pot..._

He walked in the door and jerked to a halt, eyes wide in surprise.

-takatakatakatakataka-

"Heero... how long have you been up?"

"Didn't go to bed." Heero took a gulp of coffee from the mug sitting next to his laptop, set it down, and continued typing.

-takatakatakatakataka-

"What are you doing?"

"Mission plan."

"A mission? Should I get Trowa?"

"No. This is a **personal** mission."

-takatakatakatakataka-

Quatre frowned. "**Personal**?"

"Hn. ...I have to get Duo back."

-takatakatakatakataka-

There was a rather long pause before Quatre replied. "You're writing a mission plan... on how you're going to make up with Duo?"

"**Yes**," Heero said, in an 'I-just-**said**-that' tone.

-takatakatak*shhhCRASH!*

One fast sweep of Quatre's arm sent Heero's laptop skidding across the table to smash on the floor. The pieces slid to a halt in the doorway just as Trowa was about to walk in; he blinked down at them, carefully took a long step over the bits of plastic and metal, and walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a mugful and leaning back against the bench to watch.

"Duo is not one of your fucking MISSIONS, Yui!" Quatre snarled. "He is a flesh-and-blood **person** who needs more than a frigid **machine** to make him happy! What were you doing, planning your **attack**?! Deciding how much affection to apply, when and how? **Love** is not a mission, Heero; and if love **isn't** what you feel for Duo, he's better off with you **out** of his life!"

Heero looked across the room at the remains of his laptop, then slowly raised his eyes to meet Quatre's. He swallowed, and spoke in a surprisingly soft voice. "So... what **should** I do?"

Quatre gestured impatiently, running one hand through his hair. "Oh, for... **talk** to him, Heero! Decide how you feel about him and **tell** him. Be honest with him!" He crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at Heero. "Of course, first you've got to be honest with **yourself**. This is **not** raising my estimation of your chances."

Heero blinked at him, looking confused and rather lost; Quatre snorted and spun on his heel, throwing a parting comment over his shoulder. "I'm amazed we're even having this 'discussion'! We should be celebrating the end of the war, or mourning Wufei; instead, we're playing supporting roles in the Heero Yui soap opera!"

There was a long silence.

Heero stared down at his hands.

Trowa finished his coffee.

Finally, Heero stood up; Trowa watched from under his bangs as he walked over to the doorway and crouched down, picking up the biggest piece of his laptop and turning it over in his hands. "I don't believe this," he muttered softly. "This thing was supposed to be impact-resistant!"

"Was it weatherproofed?" Trowa asked calmly, putting his mug in the sink.

"Of course!"

"Enough to survive, say... a cyclone?"

Heero twisted around to look at him over his shoulder, a puzzled frown on his face. "No... Dr. J couldn't do too much without making it look too distinctive."

Trowa strolled past him and out the door, a faint smirk on his face; he shrugged. "Cyclone Quatre strikes again."

- - - - - -

_Okay, I'll find Duo and..._

...and...

...and what?

Heero leaned on the windowsill in his room, staring past the computer bits on his desk at Duo's empty bed. _Well, planning what I'll do first doesn't seem to be an option. The only way I know to plan something this important is apparently __**not**__ appropriate..._

...besides which, I don't want Quatre to break my spare laptop too. And I think he _**would**__._

So... find Duo and play it by ear.

Duo wasn't in Wufei's room; his bed hadn't been made, but the covers had been pulled sort of straight.

He wasn't in the bathroom.

Nobody was in the kitchen.

Quatre and Trowa were in the living room; Heero backed out of **there** in a hurry.

Heero eventually found Duo in the underground hangar, balancing precariously on a ladder as he poked at Deathscythe's battle-damaged left knee. Swallowing nervously, he moved up behind him on silent feet and opened his mouth to speak - then paused, as Duo shifted his weight, wincing slightly, and started talking.

"Hell, 'Scythe, we're a right pair at the moment, aren't we? We've both popped a knee joint, both got a bunch of dings and cuts... though I think I win in the visual stakes, seeing as Gundanium doesn't bruise." He sighed. "At least I can talk to you, hey? You're a great listener, 'Scythe, don't think I don't appreciate it."

Duo rummaged around in his toolbox and pulled out a handlight, shining it into the access panel and craning his neck to get a better view of something; Heero watched, dry-mouthed. _I should say something... let him know I'm here..._

"If Wufei were here, I'd talk to him. He actually takes me seriously, y'know? We have real conversations.. in private, a'course, since in public he's gotta do the whole aloof thing. I'd say he was stupid if I didn't do something like it myself. But he's not here. And I can't really talk to Trowa and Quatre about this, since they're not exactly impartial... well, Wufei wasn't - isn't! - impartial either, but he can... I dunno... leave his own feelings out and think about something logically when he wants to give me advice. So anyway, here I am talking to you. You're not gonna give me advice, but talking things out helps me think. And, hey... at least you won't hit me or hate me for showing what I feel."

Heero flinched. _Oh, __**hell**__..._

"Love sucks, 'Scythe. Really, really sucks. I mean, sure, sometimes you get people like Quatre and Trowa, who understand each other; those two hardly have to **speak**, they understand each other so well... which is great for bang-boy. Okay, Trowa **does** speak, but he keeps it for the important stuff... so yeah, I guess he whispers sweet nothings into Quatre's ears. He'd figure that was important. But me? Noooooooooo, **I** have to go and fall in love with Mr Perfect Soldier, Heero Yui."

Heero's eyes widened as he listened, frozen.

"I don't think there's a heart in that 'stone cold killer' body. Sure is a **sexy** body, though... you know, 'Scythe, sometimes I just stand there at night and watch him sleep?"

_What the... he does that too?!_

"I just can't help myself. The number of times I've wanted to just lean over and kiss him... the number of times I've nearly **done** it... I guess I like flirting with death, huh?" Duo abruptly smacked himself on the forehead, making the ladder wobble. "What the hell am I talking about? **I'm** Death! But hey, some poet once wrote something like 'Death loves a soldier', so I guess it still fits." He chuckled softly.

_If I don't say something now, I never will,_ Heero thought desperately. _I __**have**__ to say something... tell him I... I..._

"I really love that baka... but I can't tell him. And I really can't keep going like this." Duo sighed, leaning on Deathscythe's leg. "Jeez, Duo, get a **grip**! Get **over** it! Yeah, right, that's sooooooooooo easy to say. But if he's never going to love me back... then I just gotta let go and move on, right? Give up on him." He sighed again, shoulders slumping as he pushed himself back upright. "Just... give up."

_NO! No, no... shit! Say something! SAY something! Say it! say it! say it! SAY IT!_

"Duo, I- I love you!"

- - - - - -

Lost in thought, unaware that he wasn't alone, Duo was taken **completely** by surprise.

"Duo-"

A strangled yelp escaped him as he jumped and started to turn... totally forgetting, for just that crucial moment, that he was standing on top of a wobbly ladder. His left foot slipped partway off the step; he threw his weight onto his other leg, trying to save himself, and his damaged knee couldn't take the sudden strain.

As Duo started to fall, grasping for a handhold that wasn't there, the rest of Heero's sentence registered.

"I- I love you!"

_Say __**what**__?!_

Then everything went black.

- - - - - -

Heero slapped the intercom button with an open hand and yelled into it, "Trowa, Quatre, get to the hangar **now**! Bring the medical kit, Duo needs help!"

When the other two pilots ran in, he was hovering over Duo's crumpled form with outstretched hands, desperately wanting to touch him and make sure he was okay, but terrified of making his injuries worse. _Shit! Shit! SHIT! No matter __**what**__ the hell I do, I end up hurting Duo! __**SHIT**__!_

"What the hell did you do to him now, Yui?!" Trowa yelled as he skidded to a halt next to Duo, hands already unsnapping the catches on the medical kit. "He kissed you again and you punched him out, is that it?"

"**No**! I told him I loved him and he fell off the ladder!"

"You told him you loved him while he was standing on a **ladder**?" Quatre asked incredulously. "Did he at least know you were there before you spoke?"

"I don't think so..."

"For the love of Allah, Heero, you have **no** people skills! Assassination does **not** count as a people skill!"

* * * * *

The villagers had explained the danger to Wufei not a moment too soon; the day after Nataku was hidden, one of the older children who'd been posted as sentries came running into the square, out of breath.

"Hold up there, take a breath and tell it slow," Royce commanded as the boy wheezed and stammered. "What have we got, and where are they coming from?"

"Five on tall horses," he gasped out, "Lord Yithar and his men. Seven on foot... *wheeze* ...four very short. Brown tunics. Gold thread on the front. Couldn't make out... *wheeze* the symbol. Sorry! Coming up the road from the west... they were at the big oak tree when I saw 'em."

"Thanks, lad; well done. Go get a drink, you look to need one." Royce turned to Cord, frowning, as the boy wobbled off. "Gold on brown... that'd be one of the militant orders?"

"Sounds like the Order of Torframos, I'm thinking," Cord said slowly. "They wear a gold pick on a brown field, and that'd fit with four of them being short; Torframos is the patron of miners, and he likes dwarves."

"Fair enough. And coming from the west, that means they went to the canyons first. It's a good thing we didn't try to hide Nataku there!"

"Aye, and it looks like we've a Champion to deal with, not a mage. That's something to be thankful for."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Champions usually come one at a time, and while I don't know too much about what they can do, I **do** know mages. Mages come in packs, and some of 'em can read minds. They won't do it without a good cause... but finding a demon would be a **very** good cause. I'd rather deal with someone we can **lie** to."

Royce's eyes widened and he whistled softly. "Ye-esss... that **would** be best. Ah... is there any reason why you didn't mention this before?"

"Could we have done anything but fret about it?"

"Point. **Good** point."

- - - - - -

Wufei watched from behind a screen of leaves as the party entered the village, two of the ones on foot breaking off to investigate the tracks he'd left all around the area yesterday.

As he watched the riders dismount and start talking to Royce, his eyes narrowed and he found his hand inching towards his swordhilt. _The ones who arrived on foot seem to be acting politely enough... but the others..._ He scowled as two of the men remounted and rode out into the fields, carelessly trampling the remaining grain as they waved the women working there back into the village.

_I think I need to be closer,_ Wufei thought grimly. _This has the potential to go wrong whether they find me or not._

- - - - - -

Uthmardanharknar dihna' Shirkanath was working **very** hard to suppress a scowl as he watched the villagers scurry into the square under the eyes of Yithar's armsmen.

_I like this arrogant young idiot less and less, the more I see of how he acts,_ he thought. _Half this village's fields are stubble and ash, several men have bandages... they've clearly suffered an attack in the last few days, but does he care? No! His first thought is to get a drink! And then he pours it out on the ground because it's not as good as he gets in his own house._

He turned away from watching Yithar berate the bowing, apologising brewer with a faint sigh of relief as the two scouts returned. "Ah, Cameron, Karthan... what have you found?"

The human, Cameron, stepped forward and saluted. "Sir Uthmar, there's tracks all round the village; it looks like the thing was prowling in circles, then went off down the trail to the east."

"So it didn't come in and try for a meal? Lucky for them!" Uthmar mused.

"Well, that's certainly the way it looks, Sir, but..." Cameron flicked a quick glance around, then lowered his voice and leaned down nearer to the dwarf's ear. "I can't say for sure, Sir, but if it didn't seem stupid I'd almost swear the tracks to the west are older than the ones around the village and to the east. A couple of days older. It's hard to say, though; they all fall on hard ground and rock. **That's** strange, too; the thing never once wandered into the grain fields, didn't crush any bushes, even avoided thick grass! I spoke with Karthan, and he agrees with me. It's like it wanted to leave tracks, just not **clear** tracks. And-"

"And I for one would like to know what made **that**," Karthan muttered, nodding slightly towards the huge tree that shaded half of the square. "I noticed it just now, Sir; the bark on that tree is crushed all up this side. It's a fresh mark; I can smell the sap from here. Something heavy hit that tree, Sir, or leaned against it for a while."

"In-ter-es-ting," Uthmar purred, raising one eyebrow. "We'll see what these people say about it soon enough..."

- - - - - -

Wufei crept along behind the back wall of the smithy to the door and slipped inside.

_I need a weapon... something a little less threatening than my sword. A little less __**deadly**__, too!_ he thought, examining the piles of metal stock and other supplies stacked along the wall. _If I understood Naiya and the others correctly, these men are doing their duty; they have no way of knowing that I have no evil intent. If it comes to a fight, I __**don't**__ want to kill them! And with my new strength,_ he grimaced, _I have to be even more careful... ah! This should do._ He pulled a long wood stave carefully out of its pile. _Probably intended to be a spear shaft, but it should make an adequate bo staff._

Easing the door open, he slid out once more and went in search of a good place to observe from.

- - - - - -

"...and I don't mind telling you that we were all pretty scared, sirs," Royce stammered, twisting his cap between his hands, "but it went off before dawn and we've seen nor heard nothing of it since." He didn't have to fake nervousness; he was well aware of what could happen if anything went wrong, and the dwarf champion's stare was **incredibly** disconcerting.

"Let me see if I've got all this straight," Uthmar said, starting to pace. "This priest of Sharna and his men attacked the village, kidnapped three girls and sacrificed one to summon a demon. It broke loose and killed them all... but **didn't** harm the two remaining girls?"

"No, sir," Royce said earnestly. "Looked straight at them, it did, but never raised a finger to stop them when they ran away."

"The men who'd gone after the kidnappers met up with the girls, and all returned to the village-"

"Craven fools," Lord Yithar snorted. "Cowards!"

"Lord, sir, what else could they do?" Royce protested. "We've boar-spears, bows and logging axes as weapons, nothing more - unless you count Cord's forgehammer," he added, jerking a thumb towards the blacksmith.

_And that's another thing,_ Uthmar mused. _What are two hradani doing in a human village, on a half-elf lord's land? Horse Stealer hradani, too, unless I miss my guess... what are they doing so far south?_

"We were willing enough to go up against **men**," the headman continued. "But when the girls told 'em they were all dead, and a giant demon was loose... going up against something like that 'ud be suicide for folks like us! We knew someone would have felt the magic, so we just clung close to the village and prayed you'd reach us in time."

"Yet the demon got here first," Uthmar pointed out, "and you're all still alive."

"That's true, sir, and we can't offer an explanation for it... except... well, it had plenty of time to kill the girls, and it didn't. It could've killed us, and it didn't. What if it's not evil? I, ah, know that's a strange idea, but..."

"It killed that priest and his men fast enough!" one of Yithar's armsmen snorted.

"Well, yes, that it did... but they had it captive and were trying to enslave it. They did it a wrong. None of **us** ever did it a wrong, sir, and maybe that's why it never did us harm." Royce looked earnestly at Uthmar, twisting his cap so hard the dwarf almost expected to hear the leather tear. "Is that possible, Milord Champion, sir?"

"Anything's **possible**," Uthmar growled skeptically, "but a demon that's not evil doesn't seem very **likely**. I'd rather find out more before I make a judgement like that. To continue: that night you heard the demon walking all around the village, but it never came in?"

"That's as I've said, sir, yes."

"None of you saw it."

"No, sir."

"What's that, then?" Uthmar asked, pointing at the tree.

"Eh? I'm afraid I don't follow your meaning, sir..."

"That mark on the tree," the dwarf said, watching the headman closely. "The bark is damaged. What did that?"

"**Eh**?!" Royce blinked rapidly, swallowing as he looked from Uthmar to the tree and back again. Behind him, the other villagers shifted nervously and looked at each other. "That, ah, well, I... really can't say, m'lord. Sir."

_That wasn't 'I don't know',_ the Champion thought grimly. _That was 'I know perfectly well what caused that mark, but I __**really**__ don't want to tell you'. This gets more and more interesting... hm. Are you there, Lord?_

=*Yes,*= a deep voice said within his mind.

_The signs back at the canyon were strange,_ Uthmar thought, pretending to study the tree. _The altar had been very thoroughly destroyed and de-sanctified, but I couldn't tell what power had done it. And I don't feel anything 'wrong' from these villagers, but they're definitely hiding __**something**__. I don't know... it's far-fetched, but could someone have taken hostages and ordered them to lie to us? It looks like about the right number of people for this size village, but they needn't have taken many._

=*They seem to be doing their best _**not**__ to lie... or at least, to lie as little as possible,*=_ the voice mused. _=*Keep asking questions. Events are developing.*=_

Events? _**What**__ events?!_

A chuckle. _=*Now, now, you know I can't tell you __**everything**__, Uthmar.*=_

You've told me almost nothing! Torframos!

There was no answer; Uthmar growled softly and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Something wrong, milord?" Karthan asked softly.

"Our Lord is being more than usually cryptic at me," Uthmar muttered, turning back towards Royce. "Now then," he said, raising his voice, "I'd like to speak to the girls who were kidnapped."

"Certainly, m'lord Champion. That's Rami and Naiya... come on, girls, come forward..." Royce fretted at his cap as the girls stepped out of the crowd, Rami timidly clutching at Naiya's hand; he forced himself **not** to stare or grimace at the blonde girl. _Gods help us if she doesn't remember what to do! One wrong word out of her mouth could kill us all - she's far too likely to mention Wufei, or call Nataku by name-_

Naiya bobbed a curtsy to the Champion, slightly hampered by the fact that Rami wouldn't let go. "What is it you want to know, sir?"

"I just want you both to tell me what happened when the priest-" He broke off as Rami began to sniffle, tears welling up in her huge blue eyes.

"He-he-he tied Dena up, and-and-and then he-" She took a shuddering breath, voice rising. "-he was going to kill **us**, they w-were going to-to-to- PAPAAA~!" And she crumpled into a sobbing, hiccupping little heap on the ground.

Gwent rushed to her side, followed by his wife. "Rami! Rami, baby, Papa's here- it's all right-" He turned beseechingly to Uthmar as his wife gathered Rami to her ample bosom. "Please, m'lord Champion, don't make her speak of it! She's our only living child, and she's always been a delicate little thing-"

_Delicate, my left foot!_ Royce thought, nearly grinning in relief. _She's healthy as a horse and about as bright, sometimes - but at least she did the right thing __**this**__ time!_ "It's true, sir," he said in a concerned voice, stepping forwards. "She's never been strong-willed, and she hasn't been able to speak of it without this happening. If it weren't for Naiya here, I don't think she would've made it back to us."

"Very well!" Uthmar said hastily, waving the little family away; he hid a sigh as they vanished back into the crowd and Rami's sobs subsided.

"What did you want, again, sir?" Naiya asked calmly, folding her hands in front of her.

- - - - - -

Wufei relaxed slightly, watching from behind the chimney of Cord and Naiya's house. Their roof was shingled, not thatched, which meant it was easier to climb, and the storeroom at the back had its own flat roof; if it looked like someone was about to walk around to somewhere he could be seen from, he could slide down, lie flat and remain hidden.

_Things seem to be going well enough,_ he thought, watching Naiya gesture as she talked to the short... um...

_He's not a human, and he __**certainly**__ isn't a hradani like Cord,_ Wufei mused. _Short and very broad, ears with slight points, thick beards... I might as well call those ones dwarves. And then there's the slim fop with the __**very**__ pointy ears, Yithar; he's another type again._ A slight, wry smile crossed his lips. _Two new nonhuman races, and all I do is mentally catalogue them? All the surprises I've had lately are making me jaded._

- - - - - -

"**What** did you say?!" Yithar burst out angrily.

Naiya raised her chin stubbornly. "I said, m'lord, that I was **scared**... but I never felt **threatened** by the demon. And I don't believe it's evil."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever **heard**!" he shouted, waving his riding crop. "It's a **demon**!"

"A moment, if you please, Lord Yithar," Uthmar cut in smoothly, raising a hand. "Would you mind explaining that, Naiya?"

"The demon could have killed me along with the priest, but it struck **over** me," she said determinedly. "It could have killed Rami and me both when it shot down the priest's men, but it didn't. It could have caught us as we ran, but it let us go! It looked right **at** us, m'lord, it knew we were there for the taking, and it never lifted a finger against us. I don't think things would've happened that way if he were evil?"

"'He'?" the Champion repeated; she flushed, clasping her hands more tightly.

"Well, m'lord, I suppose... with it being shaped like a man, however big... 'he' seems appropriate."

"That's a good answer," Uthmar nodded, "but I can't help feeling there's something more to it."

"More... m'lord?"

"Yes. A lot of little things don't quite fit... the tracks around this village that aren't all the same age, for one thing."

Naiya stiffened. "Aren't they? Well, I... I'm sure I can't explain that, **if** it's true."

"And that makes two of you," he mused. "'I can't say' and 'I can't explain', not 'I don't know'. Can't or won't?"

"...Can't. Sir."

"Really? As you say. But there's still the way you and Goodman Royce seem determined to persuade me that a giant demon **he's** supposedly never **seen** isn't evil... there's that mark on the tree... and you call it 'he'. I can't help thinking that you **know** where that demon's gone," he said quietly.

There was a breathless pause; then, amazingly, Naiya smiled.

"As to that, m'lord Champion..." she said calmly, "...I **really** can't say."

"Oh, you'll say," Yithar said viciously, "and we'll find it! And then-"

"NO!"

"Jarad, no, come back here! JARAD!" a woman's voice shrieked as a small form hurtled out of the crowd, fists clenched.

"You leave them **alone**!" he howled, running towards Yithar. "Wufei's my friend! They're **nice**!"

Yithar lunged forwards and backhanded the boy across the face, knocking him to the ground. "You little piece of **shit**!" he hissed, raising his riding crop. "How **dare** you oppose me-"

*CRACK!*

He staggered back a step, gaping at the figure that had appeared out of nowhere. Wufei dropped the broken riding crop and spun his makeshift staff forward, stopping it with one end just touching the half-elf's throat.

"Is **child**," he said coldly, glaring into Yithar's terrified eyes. "**Not** hit!"

* * * * *

Quatre slid out of Wufei's room, closing the door silently behind him.

"I'm surprised," Trowa said quietly, standing up from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "You're letting Heero stay with him?"

The smaller boy smiled tiredly. "He's finally admitted how he feels - to himself **and** to us - so he won't hurt Duo on purpose; and he's so terrified of hurting Duo by accident that he'll be handling him like eggs. I think it's safe enough. Of course," he added, voice hardening, "if Duo wakes up and doesn't want him there, it'll be another story."

Trowa chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Cyclone Quatre," he whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Trowa held his silence until they reached the kitchen, then stopped his lover with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Quatre, what you said earlier... 'we should be celebrating the end of the war, or mourning Wufei'..." He swallowed. "Do you really believe he's dead?"

Quatre slumped slightly. "What other possibility **is** there, Trowa? We all saw the crater. OZ - whatever's left of them - doesn't seem to have him... and I haven't been able to feel him since."

"You said you didn't feel him die."

"Maybe... if it was fast enough... **he** didn't feel it, either." One trembling hand lifted to wipe at his eyes. "I h-hope so..."

Trowa pulled Quatre into his arms and held him close as he cried.


	9. Chapter 8

"Jarad," Wufei said clearly, never taking his eyes off the frozen lord in front of him, "to mother. Go."

There was a quiet sniffle from behind him. "B-b-but, Wufei..."

"**Now**."

"*sniff* Yes, sir."

A scuffling sound told Wufei that he was being obeyed, and he relaxed slightly, pulling the end of his staff back from Yithar's throat. "Hit **child**," he said scathingly. "Big man. **Very** brave."

Yithar sputtered furiously, fear swiftly giving way to outrage, and snatched out his sword. _He's only got a __**stick**__,_ he thought, slashing at Wufei's unprotected side. _I can get- eh?!_

Without bothering to block, his target jumped contemptuously over the stroke. Staggering off-balance, the half-elf had a split second to gape at the almost-hovering figure before a foot lashed out at his face.

- - - - - -

Halfway through his strike, Wufei's eyes widened as he realised exactly what could happen if he completed the kick using his new full strength.

_Oh __**shit**__,_ he thought, visualising a very messy separation of Yithar's head and body. _Pull it pull it __**pull it**__-!_

The kick connected; Yithar staggered backwards for several paces, then collapsed onto his back.

_Have I killed him?_ Wufei wondered nervously, landing in a defensive crouch. _I wouldn't regret it, but it'll cause trouble if I have... I could have broken his neck. I haven't had enough practice to accurately judge the strength of my blows, I don't know how hard I hit him-_

There was a strangled squawk of outrage as Yithar pushed himself up onto one elbow, clutching at his face, and started yelling. Wufei sighed, feeling a strange mix of relief and annoyed disappointment.

- - - - - -

"By face! By **dose**!" Yithar howled, blood running down his face from his broken nose. "He **kicked** be! Whad are you wadig for? **Kill** him! **Kill** that basdid! He **sdruck** be!"

Three of his armsmen charged as the fourth ran for his bow, still slung behind his saddle. A couple of Uthmar's men automatically started forwards too, but the dwarf Champion held up a hand to stop them.

"Wait and see," he said curtly. _I hope I'm right... Torframos? Is this what you meant by 'events are developing'?_

There was no answer, but Uthmar could **feel** his god watching intently through his eyes.

The small figure almost danced his way through Yithar's men, and it was immediately obvious that they were completely outclassed. Precisely aimed strikes from staff, fist or feet staggered and dazed them, and the man - demon? - they were fighting hadn't taken a single wound.

"Sir?" one of the lay-brothers asked tentatively.

"He's got a three-foot sword on his back, and he hasn't touched it," Uthmar said quietly. "He's not striking to kill, or even to do much damage... look at the way he **moves**! He's not putting even a **fraction** of his strength into those blows. Yet he doesn't seem to be playing with them, either... what's he **doing**?"

"Trying not to kill them," a new voice broke in, sounding exasperated but resigned.

Uthmar shot a quick glance sideways at the speaker. "Would you care to explain that comment, Goodman Royce?" he asked, amiably enough. _Well, __**he**__ doesn't look scared any more!_

Royce snorted, never taking his eyes off the one-sided fight. "That lad's not evil, sir Champion, and neither is his big friend. They've no wish to harm anyone who doesn't deserve it. We've only known them a few days, but..."

"I am **so** looking forward to hearing the **real** story of those days," the dwarf said dryly. "Assuming, of course, that you now feel you can tell it?"

The village headman had the good manners to look mildly embarrassed. "Well... we didn't think you'd believe us, m'lord, and we had no wish to see our friend killed. Or to be killed ourselves, for harbouring demons."

"We would have listened," Uthmar said, gently reproving.

"Lord Yithar wouldn't've," Royce said grimly. "Anyway, m'lord... Wufei's stronger here than he is in his own world, and he's not used to it yet. At least, that's what Cord and I think; the lad's surprised himself a time or two. I think he's holding right back so he doesn't chance killing anyone by accident. Not what you'd expect from a murdering demon, now is it, sir?" he added pointedly.

The dwarf grinned despite himself. "I **am** paying attention, Goodman."

_=*Then pay __**closer**__ attention, my Champion,*=_ a deep voice said abruptly within his head. _=*You're about to miss something very important.*=_

Uthmar's head snapped up as his full attention jumped back to the fight, just in time for him to see Wufei despatch the last armsman with a careful blow to the back of his neck.

_But the fight's over,_ he thought confusedly as the small demon turned warily towards him, not even breathing hard. _I can't see Yithar getting back into the fight, and all three armsmen are-_

=*Three?*= Torframos asked pointedly.

A sudden movement across the square drew Uthmar's eye as the fourth armsman stepped out from behind his horse, arrow already on his bowstring.

_That reckless __**idiot**__! He'll hit innocents - __**children**__-_ He tried to lunge forwards, reaching for his axe, but discovered that he was held motionless, unable even to speak. _Torframos!_

=*Watch.*=

The armsman loosed the arrow, a sharp snapping noise echoing across the square as the bowstring slapped against his leather bracer. It was a hurried shot, and sloppy. It seemed to Uthmar that he had all the time in the world to watch its flight, to see that it would never even come close to the intended target; instead, it was heading straight for a cluster of villagers. Most were women and children.

_TORFRAMOS!_

=*Watch,*= the deep voice said implacably. _=*This is important.*=_

So are their lives! Let me go!

=*No. _**Watch**__.*=_

The arrow vanished into the group with a dull -thwock-. A split second later, someone screamed.

Still held frozen, Uthmar saw every nuance of Wufei's reaction as the small demon spun to stare at the source of the scream. He saw the look of horror and outrage on the slightly alien features; he saw Lord Yithar get to his feet and run towards the seemingly oblivious demon, sword raised for a killing stroke; and he saw the armsman nock and draw another arrow.

* * * * *

Heero lay on top of the covers next to Duo's unconscious form, as close as he could get without actually touching him. His eyes were fixed on the braided boy's slack face, alert for any twitch or change.

Now that he'd admitted how he felt - hell, now that he'd **realised** that what he felt for Duo was love - it hurt. It hurt terribly, seeing Duo injured again and knowing that **he** was to blame. Before he'd known how he felt, he'd always been able to (eventually) dismiss any concern as concern for the mission, concern that a fellow Gundam pilot was incapacitated and that might affect the progress of the war... anything except concern for the pilot himself. **Never** concern for Duo. He wouldn't **let** it be concern for Duo. That would have meant that his missions, the focus of his life to date, were no longer the be-all and end-all of his existence, and **that** would have meant... what?

It would have meant that he could no longer run his life according to black and white standards of what must be done and what must not be permitted. He'd always had plenty of leeway concerning how and even **if** he would perform his missions, but always there was the overriding goal: to defeat OZ and keep the colonies safe. It was a framework he could live his life within, a set of standards and requirements he could judge all his actions by.

Loving Duo meant that there was now a very important aspect of his life that he couldn't keep within that framework. Quatre had made **that** quite clear.

It terrified him. For the first time in his life there was something he couldn't treat as a mission, or as support for his missions. He had nothing telling him what he should do about it.

And yet...

...the only way he could avoid that, return to his mission-oriented outlook, was if he shut Duo out again and refused to allow his feelings any place in his life. And that idea terrified him even more.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching out towards Duo's bruised face but not quite daring to make contact. "I'm an idiot. I've been lying to myself almost from the first time I met you, lying to you, lying to everyone... trying to pretend you mean nothing to me. And when I couldn't pretend to myself any more I got mad at you, like it was **your** fault somehow that I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was never your fault, it was **my** fault, but I still acted like you were to blame... like it was something someone **should** be blamed for. I hurt you, and I knew what I was doing and I felt like a complete asshole and I **still** kept doing it... Duo, I'm so sorry! Even when I finally worked it all out, and I tried to start fixing it, I screwed up and **this** happened. I keep hurting you whether I mean to or not! I wouldn't blame you if you just gave up on me and l-left..." Heero swallowed hard, voice thickening. "I-if you decide you don't w-want me any more, I... I won't fight, but... please, I just want one more chance. I have to make it up to you somehow for the way I've been treating you. And... I w-want to find some way to prove to you that I really do l-love you."

He squeezed his eyes shut as a tear trickled down and soaked into the pillow, whispering the words over and over again. Somehow repetition seemed to make it easier to admit; perhaps he'd even be able to say it again after Duo came to...

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you..."

"I love you too, Hee-chan, but could you shut up right now? I'm tryin' to sleep here," a slurred voice informed him. Duo rolled over and burrowed his face into Heero's shoulder, draped one arm over Heero's ribs and relaxed with a half-yawn, half-sigh. Ten seconds later he was snoring very quietly.

Heero lay there in the dimness, holding himself perfectly still, for what seemed like a very long time.

* * * * *

This time the arrow wouldn't miss. Unable to intervene, seeing everything as if events had slowed to a crawl, Uthmar watched as it was loosed and noted almost calmly that it was on target to strike the small dragon between the shoulderblades. If that wasn't enough to finish him - demons **were** notoriously hard to kill, after all - Lord Yithar would strike immediately afterwards.

Uthmar wasn't even sure who he wanted to win.

- - - - - -

There was a small figure huddled on the ground in the centre of the group of frantic villagers, red blood swiftly soaking into the cloth around the arrow shaft.

_Dena's sister,_ Wufei thought, frozen in shock. _Dena's __**youngest**__ sister. She's younger even than Jarad - can't be more than four or five years old-_

The child's mother fell to her knees beside her, wailing, and Wufei turned to face the archer. Wisps of colour flicked into existence around him as he snarled, forming into the illusion of Nataku's armour, and he felt his link to the Gundam slam wide open.

The man was nearly thirty feet away, but Wufei never even considered that he might be out of reach; he simply lashed out with his right fist and a shadowy image of Nataku's dragon-arm shot forward, shattering the second arrow in flight and smashing the man backwards into a wall with a sickening thud.

A flicker of motion to one side, and he faced Lord Yithar. The half-elf was backpedalling frantically, trying to change directions now that his easy target had transformed into a terrifying monster; he desperately lifted his sword to parry as Wufei spun the staff over his head and struck, green energy sputtering from the end as the wood began to smoulder.

Yithar's sword clattered to the ground in two pieces as he landed on his butt in the dirt for the second time that day. A wisp of smoke curled up from the half-melted cut edges, and from the front of his tunic, too; his eyes slowly dropped to the neat line scorched into the embroidery, then rolled up into his head as he flopped backwards in a dead faint, a wet stain spreading across the front of his trousers.

Wufei shivered, heart pounding, as the power drained away from him and the shadowy armour faded. There was no longer any doubt where his new strength and abilities came from; as he'd lashed out, he'd **felt** the slight scrape in the third joint of Nataku's arm that he'd never been able to bring back up to 100%. The staff in his hand felt hot, but not unbearably so; when he lifted it for a better look he saw that it was charred and smoking, and when he flexed it experimentally it broke into several pieces.

_It couldn't take the energy, I suppose,_ he thought dazedly. _Perhaps I should experiment with metal?_

A tiny part of his mind noted that the sensitive spots mapping Nataku's damaged armour on his own skin had started to fade.

- - - - - -

Abruptly released from his paralysis, Uthmar staggered forwards half a step and then caught himself, glaring briefly upwards. _I'm going to have to 'discuss' that with Torframos,_ he thought privately. _**Very seriously.**__ But not right now._

The small demon dropped the last pieces of his destroyed staff and turned to face the dwarf, ignoring the limp half-elf lying in his self-made puddle. **Now** he was sweating and breathing heavily, Uthmar noted, as he crossed his arms arrogantly across his chest and glared.

"**You** want fight now?" he snapped. "I here."

"No no no no no!" Jarad yelled, running out of the crowd **again** to stand in front of Wufei, arms held out to the sides as he glared at the Champion. "Wufei's **nice**! You're not **allowed** to hurt him! You leave him alone or I'll **hit** you!" Looking around for a weapon, he snatched up the biggest piece of Wufei's staff and brandished it at Uthmar; then he yelped comically and juggled the hot stick in his hands, blowing on his fingers.

"Yeah!" "Leave 'im alone!" "Go 'way!" "Bad mans!" "Leggo, Ma, I wanna help!" More children ran into the square and stood ready to defend their friend, including one very small girl who crawled up behind Uthmar and started hitting him in the knee with her straw doll. He scooped her up and held her out at arms' length, looking at her rather helplessly; she glared at him as only a tiny child can glare, then stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, starting to sniffle. He was **incredibly** relieved when the child's mother ran up and took her from him with an embarrassed apology.

When Uthmar looked back at the demon, he was sputtering something at the children in an unfamiliar, musical language; they ignored him, jumping up and down and yelling at Uthmar's men. Rami ran out of the crowd and clutched at Wufei's arm, tugging ineffectually.

"Wufei, run away!" she begged hysterically. "Go get Nataku and run away! We'll keep them here until you get faar enough away to be safe. You've got to go, I couldn't **stand** it if you were killed!"

"Onna!" he yelped, then looked around for assistance. "Naiya~!"

Uthmar watched in disbelief as the formerly tense scene degenerated into utter chaos. Children were shrieking and running everywhere, parents grabbing frantically to pull them out of harm's way but afraid to step into the middle themselves. One man got hold of a boy but let go when he saw the child wasn't his; as the boy vanished back into the mess, his mother came up behind the man and smacked him across the back of the head. In the middle of it all, as Naiya pulled the weeping Rami away, the demon Wufei looked around in bewilderment, then looked over at Uthmar and held up a finger as if to say 'Wait, please'; then he started picking up children by their smocks and putting them behind him.

Torframos started chuckling in the back of Uthmar's head as the children just ran back to their previous positions while Wufei was distracted by his next handful. Even though he was seriously irritated with his god, Uthmar couldn't help joining in as Wufei picked Jarad up for the second time and did a double-take, then scowled at the unrepentant child. The boy grinned lopsidedly at him past the bruise forming on his cheek, dangling like a kitten.

"Your," Wufei said sourly, holding Jarad out at arms' length towards his parents.

After that, he had rather more success clearing the mess, handing children over to their parents as he caught them; Uthmar noted with interest that he matched them up without hesitation and didn't make a single mistake. None of the children seemed at all afraid of him, either... not that Uthmar had really expected them to, after the way they'd rushed in to defend him.

Once all the children were safely out of the way, Wufei shot one last suspicious look around, then turned back towards the dwarf Champion, blowing out an irritated breath.

"Now fight?"

"No, no," Uthmar said hurriedly, holding up empty hands. "'Now **talk**', I think."

Wufei eyed him for a second, then nodded. "Next, talk," he amended. "Now, girl hurt, help."

- - - - - -

Thankfully, the girl wasn't as badly hurt as Uthmar had feared. It had been a weak shot as well as a sloppy one; the arrow had gashed her arm and become tangled in her sleeve, doing some muscle damage but not enough to harm her permanently. One of the village women cleaned, stitched and poulticed the wound with the help of one of Uthmar's men. The child woke up halfway through and began crying, but Wufei brought a compartmented metal box out of its hiding place and convinced her to swallow a tiny spoonful of something syrupy; soon afterwards, she was yawning sleepily in her mother's lap and feeling no pain.

Watching all this, Uthmar scowled. _Torframos?_

=*Yes?*=

Just what in the name of Krahana's hells did you think you were _**doing**__?! That girl could have been killed, or crippled! As it is, she'll be scarred for life, and I can't heal her because I never met her before today. If you hadn't stopped me, I __**could**__ have knocked the arrow out of the air!_

=*We needed to know his true nature. How he would react.*=

And for that you were willing to risk the death of an innocent?!

=*No-one was killed, or even badly hurt. I would not have kept you from acting if it would have caused a death.*=

Uthmar stiffened. _So... you __**knew**__ no-one would be killed?_

=*Yes,*= Torframos replied.

_Then you __**knew**__ she would be hurt._

=*...Yes.*=

Uthmar blocked his god out of his mind and stalked off to see how badly hurt Yithar's armsmen were.

- - - - - -

Wufei closed the first-aid box and took a deep breath, then stood up and turned to Derrin.

"I sorry."

"Eh... what?"

Wufei gestured at Derrin's youngest daughter, falling asleep on her mother's lap as the morphine took effect. "I sorry. My..." He struggled to remember the word for 'fault', couldn't, and substituted. "Bad. I very sorry." He bowed deeply, switching to Chinese. " I humbly apologise for the harm my carelessness has caused. "

The dwarf who'd been helping treat the child's wound stared incredulously at him as Derrin sputtered denials. "No... wait... stand up! Please!" Reluctantly, Wufei straightened up, and Derrin grabbed his hand. "**Not** you. **Him**," he said emphatically, pointing at the armsman who had fired the arrow.

"But-"

"Not you!"

Wufei sighed and bowed again, abandoning the attempt to apologise. He still felt guilty. First this family's eldest child had been sacrificed to summon him into this world, and now they had nearly lost the youngest to an arrow aimed at him. True, he hadn't been in control of either event... but he **had** been centrally involved in both events, and that was enough.

- - - - - -

Uthmar scowled down at the last of Yithar's armsmen, the one who'd used the bow. The other three were only bruised and shaken, and were already coming around; Yithar was still out cold, but his worst injury was a broken nose (and a severely damaged pride, no doubt). This one, on the other hand...

"Well?" he asked.

Cameron looked up and shook his head. "He'll live, if nothing goes badly wrong with his healing, but I doubt he'll use a bow again. Half the bones in his left hand and arm are shattered, his right shoulderblade and a few ribs are broken, and I think he's got a cracked skull. He's damn lucky his back's not broken!"

Eyeing the spiderweb of cracks radiating from where the man's shoulders had hit the wall, plaster flaking off to reveal the thick logs beneath, Uthmar nodded in agreement. "I can't say I feel sorry for him," he growled.

"You could argue both ways, Sir," Cameron said mildly as he started to straighten the broken arm. "He **was** shooting at a demon, after all, and on the orders of his lord... but I have to admit I agree with you."

- - - - - -

"Exactly **how** big did you say this other demon is?" Uthmar said incredulously.

"See that tree over there?" Royce pointed to a tall pine that stood out from among the others at the forest's edge. "He's half a head taller than it."

"And it looks man-shaped? Wearing armour?"

There were nods all around the table. As many people as could fit had crowded around the table that stood outside Gwent's tavern, and more stood nearby, listening.

"For the fourth time, **yes**, m'lord Champion," Royce said dryly.

Uthmar flushed. "My apologies, Goodman. It's just that... well, all the demons I've ever seen or heard of are completely different from these two. They're **not** shaped like people - of whatever size - they **don't** wear armour, they **don't** use weapons, and to a Champion they positively **reek** of their own power and the power of whichever god helped summon them. Wufei here certainly has power, but I can't feel a thing from him. I hardly felt a tickle even when he was using it in the fight!" He thought for a second, combing his fingers through his beard. "At least that explains why I couldn't tell what power had burned the canyon clean... Also, from what I've heard, demons either can't talk at all **or** they arrive already knowing the language of their summoner. They don't have to **learn** it."

"I **said** I thought the priest got Wufei and Nataku by accident," Naiya muttered.

Jarad popped up beside Wufei and tugged at his elbow, grinning. His curly brown hair had been scraped back into a tail and he was wearing his black smock again, from which the sleeves had been raggedly removed. Once he was sure he had Wufei's attention, he stepped back and bowed. "Ni-hao-ma!"

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Good day," he replied, bowing back solemnly.

"Jarad, **what** have you done to your smock?!" his mother exclaimed, swooping down upon him.

"Ma, it's s'posed to look like Wufei's! And look, I can do this too!" With the tip of his tongue sticking out as he frowned in concentration, Jarad carefully moved through the first one-and-a-half patterns of Wufei's morning Tai Chi exercises. "Did I get it right? Huh?"

Both of the demon's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline this time, but he controlled the look of surprise and nodded approvingly, clapping.

"How do you balance when you're doing that long stretchy bit?" Jarad asked eagerly. "I always wobble when I try-"

"Not **now**, Jarad," his mother said firmly, taking his hand and pulling him away. "You can ask Sir Wufei later, **if** he doesn't mind."

"But, Ma-"

"'Sir' Wufei?" Uthmar asked when the chuckles had died down.

Royce shrugged. "We've no way yet to ask him if he's a knight or a lord. Some people figure that he **acts** like one or the other a lot of the time, so why not call him 'sir'?" He shot a sideways glance towards Rami and Naiya, then continued, "Not to mention that some of the lasses have been heard to say that someone so brave and chivalrous **must** be a knight. Saving innocent village maidens because he was smitten with love at the first sight of one lass's furry ears, things like that-"

"ROYCE!" Naiya shrieked, leaping to her feet. "Don't you **dare** - how could you - it's nothing **like** that!"

Uthmar hid a grin behind one hand as he watched Wufei blink confusedly at the sudden uproar.

"But, Naiya-" Rami started, voice rising over the howls of laughter.

"Don't you start! It was **you** who came up with that ridiculous story in the first place! Father, stop **laughing**! It's not funny!"


	10. Chapter 9

_Ow. This has __**got**__ to be the headache from hell. What happened __**this**__ time?_

...Since when does my pillow have a heartbeat? And when did it get this _**solid**__?_

Carefully, wincing against the light, Duo opened his eyes.

_Oh._

_**Shit**__._

How the _**hell**__ did I get into bed with __**Heero**__?! Have I started sleepwalking?_

Duo was lying half on top of the sleeping Japanese boy. Heero had both his arms wrapped around Duo's shoulders, one hand clutching the braid.

_This is Wufei's room, so... is __**Heero**__ sleepwalking? Whatever, who __**cares**__, I've just gotta get outta here before he wakes up! He'll __**kill**__ me otherwise!_

Slowly and painfully, Duo wiggled downwards until he was out of the circle of Heero's arms. Unfortunately, he couldn't see any way to get his braid out of Heero's death grip without waking him up.

_I never thought I'd seriously consider cutting it, but..._

Heero frowned and made a dissatisfied noise, one hand groping sideways along the bed; Duo quickly pushed the pillow into his arms, and he let go of the braid to clutch at it.

_**Phew**__. Now to make my escape!_

Limping downstairs, Duo pressed one hand to the back of his head and winced. _What time is it? It looks like mid-afternoon... why was I in bed? Did I get hit in the head __**again**__?! The last thing I remember is going into the hangar to check on 'Scythe..._

Duo sighed in relief as he peered into the kitchen and saw Trowa and Quatre. "Guys? What hap-"

"Duo, sit down! Are you feeling all right? Should you be up?" Quatre almost teleported to Duo's side and helped him to a chair; Trowa just smiled and put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

"Where's Heero?" Quatre continued, glancing towards the door.

"Um... upstairs... guys, what's going on? What **happened**?!"

The other two pilots glanced at each other. "Well... Duo, what do you remember?" Trowa asked.

"I was going out to check on 'Scythe," Duo said, frowning. "I got the ladder out to take a look at his knee..."

Quatre and Trowa glanced upwards as they heard quick, light footsteps overhead; struggling to remember, Duo didn't notice.

"...I got up there and started checking it out..." _I was talking to 'Scythe about Heero, but they don't need to know __**that**__._ "...And..."

Heero came thundering down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide and hair even messier than usual. "Quatre, have you seen- Duo! There you are! Why didn't you wake me up? Don't **scare** me like that!"

The last piece clicked into place in Duo's memory.

"...what did you say?"

Heero blinked. "Uh... don't scare me?"

"No... earlier. In the **hangar**," Duo said with exaggerated patience, fingers whitening around his coffee mug. "When you came up behind me and scared me off the **ladder**. What did you say **then**?"

Quatre and Trowa exchanged glances and quietly sidled away to the other end of the kitchen - far enough to be unobtrusive, but not so far away that they couldn't hear everything. Then they leaned on the wall and watched as Heero gulped and started turning white.

Finally, he managed to get his voice working. "I... uh... I said... I l-"

"**Don't** say that," Duo hissed venomously. "Don't **ever** say that. Not when you don't mean it!"

There was a long, painful pause.

"I love you," Heero said quietly. "I mean it."

"Well you sure have a weird way of showing it," Duo muttered, looking away.

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I was..." Heero grimaced. "I was an idiot. I couldn't admit that I actually... that... that I **cared** about you, so I was getting angry with myself... and taking it out on you. Until Trowa threatened me," he finished sourly.

Everyone looked at Trowa.

He shrugged. "I told him we'd take you away from him for good if he didn't start treating you properly. It got his head out of his ass... part way, at least."

Quatre coughed, covering a grin with his hand; Duo blinked, surprised, then stared accusingly at the blond boy. "Take me away... is **that** what you were getting at three days ago, when you kissed me?"

"Well. Er... actually, at the time I was most interested in getting some sort of reaction out of you," Quatre confessed, blushing. "**Any** reaction, even if you decked me. I was worried! And... all right, yes, if you'd responded I would've been delighted. We... um... well, if you ever want to consider it..."

Heero glared.

Duo stared at Quatre and Trowa for a moment, then pushed his coffee mug away and dropped his head onto his arms. "I don't want to deal with this right now," he moaned. "I don't even want to **think** about it... my head hurts! I think I wanna go lie down..."

"I'll get you some painkillers," Quatre said quickly, escaping out the door.

"Do you want some help getting back upstairs?" Heero asked quietly.

Duo lifted his head and glared at him. "I hope you're not thinking that I'm going to squeal and throw myself into your arms, yelling 'all is forgiven', just because you've said you love me. All is **not** forgiven, you got that?"

"Yes."

"All right. **Now** you can help me up to bed."

* * * * *

"I won't take anyone with me," Uthmar told his second-in-command. "You stay here and keep an eye on things."

"Are you expecting trouble, sir?"

"Once Yithar wakes up, yes."

The other dwarf snickered, hiding a grin.

"And **that's** exactly why I'm expecting trouble," Uthmar pointed out, trying to keep his own face straight. "According to the way he and his relatives think, he was entirely within his rights to strike that child... and then Wufei made a fool out of him."

"Have I mentioned that I **like** that demon, sir? He - heh! - he has **style**."

"You can like him all you want, Gunnar, just please **don't** mention him to Yithar if you can help it. I **especially** want you to avoid references to broken swords, broken **noses**, and wet _*cough*_ breeches. Yithar is a spoilt brat who's been swatted, and he'll be looking for someone to take it out on."

Gunnar snorted. "I'd like to see him try to touch **us**."

"If he gets angry enough, he'll take it out on the **villagers**," Uthmar said seriously, all humour gone. "He's afraid of Wufei, and he's got no power over the Order of Torframos - unless he can convince his relatives in Bortalik to blockade us, which they **won't** do over a personal snit. The villagers are almost completely in his power, though, and they all saw him pass out and pee his pants. That's enough to make him vindictive, don't you think?"

"Er... yes, sir. No wet-pants jokes, and we'll try to keep a lid on anything he might start."

"**Thank** you, Gunnar. I'd also appreciate it if you'd have a quiet word with Goodman Royce... ask him to sit on any hotheads who might crack the wrong joke at the wrong time, that sort of thing. I doubt he needs the advice, but I'll feel better."

"Got it, sir. Have a nice walk!"

Uthmar snorted and turned away, walking over to where Terrin and Wufei were waiting for him. "All right, gentlemen; shall we go get your big friend?"

- - - - - -

Wufei set a fast pace as they started down the trail to Nataku's hiding place. Terrin winced inwardly as he thought about how his legs were going to feel - again! - but Uthmar settled into his stride without a problem.

"Er... milord Champion? D'you mind if I ask a question?" Terrin ventured after a few minutes.

"Not at all. What is it?"

"Well... I haven't met very many dwarves before today. Are you all, umm... really good walkers?" he finished in a hurry.

Uthmar chuckled. "No, not really. It depends on what you do in life. I do a lot of travelling, so I had to either get good at walking or ride. And can you imagine me on a horse?"

"Now that you mention it, sir... not really, no," Terrin said, grinning tentatively.

"In other words, you **can** imagine it, and it's a damn funny picture," Uthmar said dryly, gesturing down at his short legs that were taking two steps for every one of Terrin's. "Dwarves ride mules or donkeys. I usually wear armour, so I'd need a strong mule to bear the weight... and I've never yet met a mule that didn't hate me on sight."

Terrin blinked. "Any idea why?"

The dwarf snorted. "Mules are smart. I think they take one look at me, and decide to work for someone **lighter**. How long before we reach the cave?"

"At this rate? Maybe five hours."

"That far?! I thought you said we'd get back before dark!"

"If you're willing to let Nataku carry you, sir, we'll be back in the village half an hour after we reach the cave."

Wufei glanced back over his shoulder, then turned away as it became obvious they weren't addressing him.

"...It's **that** fast?"

"Yes, sir." Terrin grinned. "When he moves, he **moves**."

"Ah. Yes. **He**, not it." Uthmar grimaced. "Must remember that... I wouldn't want to offend him."

"I don't know if it would, sir... Nataku's... well, he's strange."

Uthmar rolled his eyes at Terrin. "Goodman, if you can explain to me how a giant metal demon can be anything **but** strange, I'd appreciate it. And you don't have to call me 'sir'; just 'Uthmar' is fine."

"So long as you call me 'Terrin' instead of 'Goodman'..."

He grinned, reaching up to lightly swat Terrin's shoulder. "Done! Now, what did you mean by 'strange'?"

"Well..." Terrin frowned. "I know Royce told you Nataku carries Wufei. Did he get to telling you **how**?"

"I don't believe he did, no..." Uthmar nodded to the demon in question as he shot another glance back at them.

"**Inside**. There's a hole in his chest, about here," Terrin marked off a space with his hands, "and Wufei gets in. The armour closes up over it."

"...That's strange, yes."

The hunter shook his head. "No, that's not it. The strange part is that I don't know if Nataku can **do** anything on his own. If Wufei's not in there, he just sleeps. That's what damaged the tree in the square; he was leaning on it. I've heard him speak **once**, and it might not've been him at all, because Wufei was in him at the time and it sounded like Wufei, only... um... bigger, if that makes any sense. It's like Wufei is Nataku's mind, or... well, maybe Nataku **is** an it!"

"Giant armour, you mean?" Uthmar raised an eyebrow, and Terrin shrugged.

"Maybe. All I can say for sure is that I haven't seen him do **anything** without Wufei."

"Well, it's certainly something to consider," the Champion replied. "It's very difficult to say anything for certain when you're dealing with demons, though." He fell silent, and Terrin - who was beginning to need his breath for walking, not talking - didn't try to start the conversation again.

_Can __**you**__ tell?_ Uthmar thought brusquely, flicking a quick glance upwards.

_=*...are you talking to me again?*=_ Torframos replied; it sounded like he was trying to be casual, but there was an apologetic feel to the thought.

_Are you going to answer the question or not?_

=*I honestly don't know.*=

What?! You should be able to tell whether there's two demons in the area, or one demon and his gear!

=*Actually,*= the god said, sounding rather sheepish and a little annoyed, _=*I can't __**see**__ Wufei unless you're looking at him. I felt the summoning that brought him here, and I got a vague impression of what had come through, but I've felt almost nothing from him since. I got something from him when he used his power during the fight, but...*=_

Uthmar got the impression that if Torframos had been visible at that moment, he would have shrugged.

_Even though they say Nataku's in a cave right now?_ he thought incredulously.

_=*That's what's __**really**__ annoying,*=_ Torframos grumbled. _=*Not to mention alarming! Earth and the underground are __**mine**__. The moment a demon - __**any**__ demon - sets foot underground, I should __**know**__ it... unless another god is working to hide it from me. Even then, I should know that __**something**__ is wrong!*=_

And that hasn't happened this time.

=*Exactly.*=

Another bit of evidence that you gods aren't as omniscient as you sometimes think.

He **felt** Torframos wince. _=*Uthmar...*=_

_**Yes**__?_

=*...all _**right**__! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have done that.*=_

You once told me that gods need their champions to exercise their free will, because you need warriors instead of sycophants or puppets, Uthmar went on mercilessly.

_=*...yes...*=_

That felt _**awfully**__ like being a puppet,_ he finished with heavy sarcasm.

_=*I won't do it again.*=_

I hope not, Torframos, because if you do I'm going to give back your axe, and I don't want to have to do that.

=*...you're serious, aren't you?*=

_**Deadly**__ serious._ Uthmar glared upwards briefly. _I became your Champion to __**help**__ you, not to have you make decisions for me._

=*...I'm sorry. I _**won't**__ do it again!*=_

* * * * *

"Something wrong, brother?"

"Oh... _*sigh*_ no, nothing serious." The voice turned wry. "I just acted without thinking things through and nearly lost my favourite Champion, that's all."

"Ouch!" A chuckle. "I'm surprised at you, Torframos... that sounds more like something **I'd** do."

"Oh, wonderful... my big brother is finally rubbing off on me. Thank you **so** much, Korthrala, I feel **much** better now."

* * * * *

"Father, I **have** to do **something** about him! He killed my favourite priest!"

"**Now** he's your favourite? I never heard you mention him before he died... I think you just want an excuse to go outside the restrictions."

"Nobody asked **your** opinion, **brother**. My lord father, **please**!"

A sneer. "Begging suits you, Sharna. You should do it more often."

"You-!"

=*SILENCE.*=

A pause.

=*SHARNA.*=

"My lord father!"

=*YOU MAY SEND **ONE**. NOW, GO.*=

"**Thank** you, my lord!" A triumphant glare at the third presence, and Sharna was gone.

=*...YOU DON'T AGREE?*=

"I have... doubts, my lord father."

The heavy voice darkened. =*REGARDING THE WISDOM OF MY DECISION?*=

"Regarding my brother's abilities, my lord."

A chuckle. =*IN THAT CASE I'M SURE YOU'LL AGREE WITH MY NEXT COMMAND. FOLLOW YOUR BROTHER. IF HE SUCCEEDS, WE WILL HAVE NO FURTHER CONCERNS. IF HE FAILS...*=

"My lord?"

=*WATCH THIS STRANGE NEW DEMON, KRASHNARK. IF SHARNA CANNOT KILL HIM, I WANT **YOU** TO MAKE HIM YOURS.*=

"As you command, my lord."

* * * * *

Uthmar stood at the end of the trail of giant footprints, looking around at the wide circle of flattened plants; then he turned back to Terrin and Wufei.

"All right. I give up. Where is it?"

They smirked at each other before turning around and going back the way they had come.

"I have to admit, I was wondering why you thought you could keep Nataku's hiding place a secret when he leaves such clear tracks," the dwarf went on, falling in next to them. "Obviously, I was underestimating you," he added dryly.

Terrin chuckled. "Not **me**, Uthmar; I had no idea what they were going to do when I showed 'em the cave. I thought I'd be spending three hours doctoring the signs, but Nataku didn't **leave** any."

"Mind telling me how he managed that?" Uthmar asked hopefully.

"Er... no offense, but... well, if Wufei decides to let you know, that's another matter. It's not that I don't think we can trust you," he put in hastily, "it's just that it's not my secret to tell-"

"That's all right. I understand."

"...thanks."

_=*Wufei certainly seems to inspire loyalty,*=_ Torframos commented tentatively. _=*And yet, from what the villagers say, he hasn't been __**trying**__ to...*=_

It could simply be that he's willing to fight for them, Uthmar pointed out. _After all, he didn't __**have**__ to do any of the things he's done... save the girls, bring them home, defend the children..._ He chuckled. _Gunnar would say that it's obvious._

=*Oh?*=

He 'has _**style**__'. Of __**course**__ they like him._

Terrin broke into Uthmar's thoughts, pointing up towards the Spinewall. "Up there."

"Really?" Uthmar squinted. "...what, that crack?"

"Well hidden, isn't it?" the hunter grinned, settling down onto a rock and stretching his legs as Wufei started up the slope.

Uthmar nodded absently, still peering up at the vague shadow on the rock that **might** be a cave entrance. _Torframos? __**Now**__ can you feel anything?_

=*There's certainly a cave there, but... no. Nothing.*=

Wufei sprang up the last few feet, turned sideways, and vanished.

_=*Now I can't even feel __**him**__,*=_ Torframos grumbled.

A few minutes passed with nothing happening. Eventually, Uthmar began to fidget. "What's taking so long?" he muttered.

Glancing up towards the cave as he eased one boot off, Terrin shrugged. "Wufei draped a black cloth over Nataku before we left him there; when he finished, you couldn't tell there was anything there unless you nearly walked into him. I guess he's taking it off, and then he has to wake Nataku up... I helped him put it on, so I suppose I should've helped him take it off again, but somehow I didn't feel like climbing up there after he walked me off my legs _again_. He-"

There was a faint, almost imperceptible rumble through the ground underfoot.

_=*All right, __**now**__ I feel something,*=_ Torframos announced tensely. _=*Something just woke up in there.*=_

So Nataku _**is**__ another demon?_

=*...I still can't tell!*= the god said, frustrated. _=*It __**does**__ feel like something new woke up, but at the same time it feels like Wufei... only...*=_

*Only _**what**__?!_ Uthmar snapped mentally. _Stronger? Older? Younger?_

=*...Bigger,*= Torframos said lamely.

About to say something rude back, Uthmar lost his train of thought as Nataku began to emerge from the cave.

_...bigger?_ he thought eventually, watching the giant demon walk down the slope towards him. _Ye-esss... I'd say 'bigger' would cover it..._

* * * * *

Once again, Heero sat by Duo's bed, watching him sleep.

_Okay... __**now**__ what do I do?_ he thought, reaching out to brush a wisp of hair away from Duo's nose. _I seem to have a second chance. This is good. This is __**wonderful**__, in fact. But... if I don't work out how to use it, __**fast**__, I'll lose it._

How _**do**__ you prove that you love someone?_ he thought helplessly. _This is not something I have any experience in! Not to mention that I also have to make up for the way I've been treating him..._

Quatre said 'decide how you feel and tell him'. I did that. He fell off the ladder. Careful choice of time and place is obviously important.

What else?

...

Heero yawned and leaned on the bed, thinking.

_All right, what are all the things I did __**wrong**__?_

...I ignored him. I yelled at him. I insulted him. I hurt him. I refused to talk to him. I acted as if he wasn't important... I'm amazed he didn't give up on me earlier!

So... to do things right...

I should pay attention to him. I won't yell at him, or insult him. I _**definitely**__ won't hurt him. If he wants to talk, I'll talk to him. And he's... he's __**very**__ important. I'll do things for him... find out what he wants and give it to him..._

- - - - - -

"It's awfully quiet up there," Quatre said uneasily.

"Duo's probably gone to sleep," Trowa pointed out, "and I doubt Heero would be making much noise if that's the case-" He turned around, and saw Quatre's back view vanishing out the door.

"I'll just go check," the blond boy muttered, heading for the stairs; Trowa sighed and followed.

Carefully inching the door open, they peered in.

Heero was sitting in the chair next to the bed, slumped forward with his head resting on the covers, one arm stretched out so that his hand rested limply on Duo's chest. Duo had worked his arms out from under the covers; one hand was holding his braid, and the other was reaching down to Heero's head, fingers tangled in his messy hair.

Trowa reached over Quatre's shoulder and firmly pulled the door shut. "I think we can leave them alone and go to bed."

"Trowa, it's only nine o'clock!"

"So?" He raised one eyebrow. "We can still go to bed."

"...okay."

* * * * *

"I **demand** that you hand him over for punishment!"

"My lord Yithar," Gunnar said, keeping his voice and expression polite with an effort, "in my opinion, the child has already been sufficiently punished. You **did** hit him."

"It is not sufficient in **my** opinion, and it is **my** opinion that matters here!" Yithar sneered, still sounding slightly nasal though the swelling had started to go down. "This is **my** land!"

"But these people are not slaves, lord, they are tenant farmers. There **are** certain legal restrictions on how you can treat them. Moreover, the child's youth is-"

"The Purple Lords have never accepted the Empire's legal system as their own, and you know it!"

"I was speaking, my lord, of the legal restrictions imposed by all the militant orders," Gunnar rumbled, eyes narrowing slightly. "While it's true that the Purple Lords have not officially accepted them, neither have they officially **repudiated** them. Would you care to be the one who makes that decision for all your relatives... sir?"

"Er... well, I-"

_-thoom-_

"What was that?" one of Yithar's armsmen muttered, glancing around. They and Uthmar's other men were the only witnesses to this argument; all the villagers had quietly trickled out of sight as soon as it had started, knowing it was a **bad** idea to be around when Yithar - inevitably - lost.

_-thoom-_

"I heard it too," Cameron said, looking around. "What-"

_-thoom-_

"YAY! Nataku's coming back!" A sudden flood of children poured through the square, towards the main trail.

"Now you get back here, Keye!" a woman scolded, wiping wet hands on her apron as she leaned out her door. "The rest of you, too! How's poor Nataku supposed to get into the square with the lot of you underfoot?"

"**Poor** Nataku?!" Karthan asked incredulously, automatically hefting his axe as the heavy footsteps came closer.

_**-thoooom-**_

Gunnar looked around and raised an eyebrow as he saw all the villagers emerging from their houses, expressions of delight and anticipation on their faces. "We walked in with their lord, and they looked worried," he whispered to Karthan. "A giant metal demon is about to walk into their village, and they look **happy**. Is it just me, or is there something wrong here?"

"Not some**thing**, sir," Karthan replied dryly, nodding towards where Yithar was sidling behind his biggest armsman. "Some**one**."

"There he is!" Jarad cheered, bouncing up and down.

The lay brothers of the Order of Torframos took a step back in unison as Nataku's head came into view over the trees. Yithar's armsmen took **two** steps back... and Yithar scrabbled backwards until he hit a wall, looked frantically around, and dived into the nearest doorway.

- - - - - -

Uthmar leaned on Nataku's thumb, watching the village come into view. "I could get used to this, you know," he chuckled.

"Best way to travel I've found yet," Terrin grinned, lying on his stomach with his boots and socks off.

As they came up the last section of trail, a small figure darted out in front of Nataku's feet, nearly getting stepped on; at the last instant, the descending foot jerked up and to the side.

"Whoa!" Uthmar yelped, clutching at the thumb as he skidded towards the edge of Nataku's palm. "What the-?!"

"JARAD!" Terrin shouted, looking down over the edge. "Damn it, that's becoming a habit for that boy!"

[ [ Not **do** that! ] ] a deep voice boomed out, loud enough to make them wince. [ [ Jarad! Get hurt, not good! Ta ma de! ] ]

"I want a ride too!" Jarad yelled, not at all concerned that he'd nearly got himself killed. "Please, Nataku? Pick me up, **please**!"

There was an annoyed-sounding grumble, and the demon lowered his left hand to the ground for Jarad to climb on. [ [ Terrin, **hold**! ] ] the voice commanded, and the hand didn't rise again until the hunter had a firm grip on the boy's smock.

"I see what you mean about him sounding like Wufei," Uthmar commented quietly, barely audible over Jarad's excited squeals; Terrin just nodded and held on.

The instant Nataku's passengers were back on the ground, Jarad's mother ran up. Before she could get her mouth open to start scolding, her son was crowing about his triumph.

"Did you see, Ma? Did you **see** me?! I was up soooooo high-"

"Yes, and I saw what you did, too!" she replied, grabbing his arm and delivering a sharp smack to his bottom. "Don't you **ever** do **anything** like that again! What am I to do with you? You could have been **killed**!"

"Ow! But Ma, I **knew** Nataku wouldn't step on me-"

The hatch in Nataku's torso opened and Wufei jumped out. "**Not** do that!" he yelled angrily, stalking over.

Jarad's bottom lip wobbled as he was confronted by his hero. "B-but-"

"Not run out!" the demon continued, slightly calmer but still glaring. "**Not** run into fight. **Not** run in front of feet. **Never**!"

"But **Wufei**," Jarad wailed, "Nataku wouldn't **hurt** me-"

"Not **want** hurt. Maybe foot hit, you hurt. Sword hit. Not **want**," he struggled to explain.

"Sir Wufei or Nataku could hurt you by **accident**," Jarad's mother snapped, nodding her thanks to Wufei as she started to tow her son away. "How do you think poor Nataku would feel if he didn't see you in time and he **stepped** on you? You have to be more careful!"

"_*sniff*_ I'm sorry..."

Wufei shook his head and stalked back towards Nataku, sputtering something in his own language; Naiya chuckled, hiding a smile behind her hand as she came up behind Uthmar.

"Are you laughing at the child, or Wufei's expression?" he inquired politely.

"Neither," she replied, smiling down at him. "It was what he said..."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "You understood that?"

"Some... I've learnt a few words, and you can get more from his tone. I **think** that was something like 'Women and children! Aagh!' and then a lot of swear words..."


	11. Chapter 10

Sitting in Nataku's cockpit, Wufei seethed, struggling to bring himself back under control.

_I nearly __**killed**__ the little idiot,_ he thought, feeling again the rush of fear and horror that had run through him when he'd seen Jarad run out under Nataku's feet. _I've caused civilian casualties before, in pursuit of a mission goal. Not deliberately; it's been the result of poor advance intelligence, or my failure to take something into account when planning, or sheer bad luck that took a battle into the wrong area. I'm sure... I __**know**__, I've killed children._

Never one I _**knew**__. And certainly never because they trusted me too much..._

Shaking himself angrily, he scrubbed one hand over his face and reached out for the controls.

_Jarad was __**not**__ hurt, and I'm sure his mother will make sure he never does anything like that again. He doesn't need __**me**__ yelling at him again, so I'd better stay in here until I've calmed down!_

Switching to Nataku's self-diagnostic programs, he began working his way through a full check of the Gundam's systems.

- - - - - -

"Any problems while I was gone?" Uthmar asked quietly, back turned to Yithar's armsmen. The half-elf lord himself hadn't yet re-emerged from the hut he'd taken cover in when Nataku came into view.

Gunnar grinned at the Champion, but there was an angry glint in his light-yellow eyes. "That Purple Lord pissbag wanted the boy handed over to him for 'proper punishment'. I headed him off," he continued as Uthmar swore viciously, "by hinting that taking action against Jarad would count as a formal repudiation of the militant orders' legal code - well, actually, I did more than hint. I, ah, hope that's not a problem..."

"It's probably the best thing you could have done, Gunnar," the Champion muttered, grimacing. "**I** certainly can't come up with a better idea! That overdressed little prick is cautious of us, but what he's **really** scared of is upsetting his high-class relatives in Bortalik. Getting them into a serious conflict with the militant orders would **definitely** do that."

"He's scared of **them**, too, m'lord," Gunnar said softly, tipping his head slightly towards Nataku's brooding figure.

"Yes, but that doesn't help much," Uthmar replied sourly. "After all, the Order of Torframos is here to **protect** him from the big bad demon threat."

"And the little worse demon?" his second asked mildly, semi-permanent grin widening; Uthmar nearly choked suppressing his laughter.

- - - - - -

Wufei stared incredulously at the neat block of text on his screen.

"This is **ridiculous**," he whispered, hitting a key combination to clear that set of test results and start the diagnostic program again. "**Ridiculous**. I've been forced to accept a lot over the last few days, but **this**-" He fell silent, watching the screen as it flicked through screens of text and diagrams too fast to follow.

_I have some sort of link to Nataku, yes. I can draw strength from it, and I now heal ludicrously fast, yes. I can sense damage to Nataku's systems as if it happened to my own body, all right, __**yes**__!_

But Gundanium armour just does _**not**__ regenerate!_

The test summary blinked onto his screen again as if to contradict that thought.

| ARMOUR 94%  
| SENSORS 100%  
| MOBILITY 100%  
| AMMUNITION 47%  
| **RESUPPLY**  
| WEAPONS 99.5%  
| COMPUTERS 100%  
| - HARDWARE 100%  
| - SOFTWARE 100%  
| NAVIGATION 22%  
| **LOCAL MAPPING BEGUN**  
| **NO BEACONS FOUND**  
| **NO LANDMARKS RECOGNISED**  
| **PLEASE INPUT LOCAL MAPS**

_The armour was at 89 percent the last time I ran a full diagnostic. __**89**__! That was only three or four days ago. Almost half of the damage has repaired itself! And-_ Wufei pulled up the previous test report out of Nataku's maintenance records and scowled at it. _-I __**thought**__ so. Weapons were only at 99 percent; I couldn't quite fix that joint in the right arm. That's mending itself, too..._

I suppose it's a small remnant of normality that the ammunition stores aren't refilling themselves. _**Yet**__._

Wufei blanked the screen and sat back, rubbing at his temples. _This is giving me a headache. Every time I think I've seen all the weirdness this world can throw at me, something else happens! It's a lot easier to accept two moons and multiple non-human races and even the existence of __**magic**__ than it is to accept some of that magic happening to Nataku and myself!_

Duo would think this was 'cool'.

Wufei glanced sideways at the storage compartment holding Duo's bagful of CDs and smiled, a little sadly. _I'd give a lot to have Duo here now. He wouldn't let a little thing like several major laws of physics being broken bother him... he'd __**love**__ Jarad... and I can just imagine how he'd react to the other people around here. "Shit, Wu-man, this guy's even bigger than Rashid! I didn't think that was possible!" "Ah, piss off, ya pointy-eared pipsqueak!" "__**Man**__, you guys are short. So, where'd ya park Snow White?"_

Wufei chuckled softly, getting up and hitting the control to open Nataku's hatch. _He'd be in his element. And it wouldn't even bother me if he insisted on keeping up the idiot facade... well, not much, anyway._

I know what he's _**really**__ like._

* * * * *

Quatre carefully pulled the door to Wufei's room shut and tiptoed away. "Duo's still asleep," he reported to Trowa as they started downstairs, "but Heero isn't in there. Probably out in the hangar tweaking Wing's systems," he added in an uncharacteristically sour voice.

Trowa sniffed the air, frowning slightly. "I'm not so sure... that doesn't smell like motor oil."

Heero was standing in the kitchen, scowling at an old, grease-spotted cookbook as he stirred something in a large bowl. The coffeemaker was burbling on the bench as it finished brewing a large potful, and a surprising range of foodstuffs were lined up on the bench waiting to be cooked or served.

"...Heero? What are you doing?" Quatre asked tentatively.

The Japanese pilot shot a brief glare at them from under his bangs, then turned back to the cookbook. "Cooking," he said flatly.

"Cooking **what**?!" _I didn't know Heero __**could**__ cook!_ Quatre thought incredulously. _Every time he's prepared a meal that I know of, it's been something pre-packaged that he could just heat up..._

"Breakfast," Heero snapped, in a tone of voice designed to end the conversation then and there.

It didn't work.

"Bacon, tomatoes, corn fritters," Trowa mused, examining the food on the bench. "Coffee, orange juice, Fruit Loops, eggs-" he glanced at the cookbook "-and blueberry pancakes. All Duo's favourites. What are you going to do if he doesn't come down for breakfast?"

"I'll take a tray up to him." Heero slammed the mixing bowl down on the bench and grabbed the frying pan.

"What if he doesn't wake up before it's all gone cold?"

"I'll. Make. **More**."

"Excellent idea," Trowa said blandly, turning away to hide the smirk. "Carry on."

Before Heero could decide whether or not to hit him with the frying pan, the doorbell rang. Differences abruptly forgotten, the three pilots looked at each other speculatively.

"Who knows we're here?" Trowa asked.

"Only the doctors," Heero said grimly, "and they wouldn't send anyone without warning us first. I checked **my** mail this morning..."

Trowa nodded. "So did we. No messages."

"It **could** just be Mormons," Quatre pointed out.

"At seven A.M.?"

"**Rude** Mormons, then. Or Jehovah's Witnesses."

"Quatre, we're fifteen miles out of town!"

"Jehovah's Witnesses who are desperate to meet their monthly quota of sinners harangued?"

"Will somebody answer the door?!" Heero growled, belatedly putting down the frying pan and pulling out his gun as the doorbell rang again. "I don't care if it's Jehovah's Witnesses, door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesmen, or an OZ assault team that hasn't heard about the surrender yet, just answer the damn door before they wake Duo up!"

Sidling to one of the front windows, Trowa peered cautiously out through a crack in the blinds, then slumped, gently thumping his forehead with one palm. "Ah. Of **course**. Why didn't we think of that?"

"Who is it?" Heero asked tensely.

"There's a pink limousine parked out front."

Heero groaned and turned back towards the kitchen. "I've changed my mind. **Don't** answer the door."

Quatre sighed. "If we don't, she'll just stay there ringing the bell until she **does** wake Duo up." The doorbell rang for the third time. "See?"

"Fine! Whatever!" Heero waved one hand dismissively as he vanished through the kitchen door. "Do whatever you like, just keep her away from me **and** keep her away from Duo. Deal with her yourselves. I'm going to make breakfast before the pancake batter curdles."

"_*sigh*_ Let her in, Trowa."

Trowa yanked the door open, to reveal Relena Dorlian-Peacecraft standing on the porch, one hand raised to push the doorbell again; she blinked in mild surprise, then smiled. "Trowa! It's **so** good to see you again, especially now. May I come in?"

"How'd you find us?" he asked bluntly, not moving aside.

"Actually, it was quite easy this time," she said calmly. "I didn't even need help with the research. Things were going 'boom' in this general vicinity a few days ago, and this property **is** publicly listed as part of the Winner Estate."

Trowa rolled his eyes and stepped aside. "Come in. Quatre! We have to talk about hiding in your family's properties..."

"Good morning, Relena," Quatre said politely, ignoring Trowa's comment for now. "To what do we owe the honour of this visit?"

"Well, I'm sure you've heard about OZ's surrender," she said, putting her purse down on a chair, "but it's official now. Lady Une signed the formal articles late last night, and we're proceeding with general disarmament and securing all the OZ bases and weapons stores."

"'We'?"

"The new peacetime administration." Relena blushed slightly. "About the only good thing OZ did was the unification of Earth under one government; an interim cabinet has been formed from the leaders of several resistance groups and the surviving heads of countries OZ took over, and... well, they offered me the post of Vice-Foreign Minister, and I've accepted. There'll be a general election as soon as possible, of course, so I don't know how long I'll be in this position-"

"That's wonderful, Relena!" Quatre said happily, clasping her hands in his. "I'm sure you'll be re-elected, too, don't worry."

The blush deepened. "Well, that depends on whether or not the people of Earth decide they want a seventeen-year-old girl helping to rule them! I'll certainly do my best for however long I hold the post, though." She quickly shifted topics, looking around. "Is everyone here? I particularly wanted to talk to all of you; I'm going to need good advice now, more than ever before, and I couldn't think of anyone whose opinions I'd value more. Apart from my mother, of course, but some of the policy decisions we've got to make **very** soon are military in nature, and she's got even less experience in that area than I do..."

Quatre and Trowa blinked at each other, bemused; they were both thinking the same thing. _Relena wants our advice? On __**military**__ matters? She's __**not**__ going to automatically argue for Total Pacifism?!_

"Ah. Well, in that case," Quatre started hesitantly, "I think-"

"Heero's in the kitchen," Trowa said, pointing at the door. "Want some coffee?"

"Oh, that would be **lovely**," Relena said quickly, dropping Quatre's hands and heading in that direction. "I had a late night and a **very** early morning, and- Heero~! Have you been well? I-"

The closing door cut off her voice.

"We could have arranged it so Heero had **some** warning," Quatre said reproachfully.

"He knew she was in the house. If he **really** wanted to avoid her, he should have gone out the window."

- - - - - -

In the ensuing bustle as Heero was pried out of the kitchen and brought up to speed, and everybody settled down in the lounge room with cups of coffee or tea, nobody noticed the upstairs floor creaking quietly as Duo crept to the head of the stairs.

_Who's there?_ he wondered, sidling down the first couple of steps with one hand on the railing and the other clutching his gun. _Nobody's supposed to know we're here- oh. __**Relena**__,_ he thought grumpily as he identified her voice. _I shoulda guessed._

He winced and shifted his weight as a sharp twinge of pain ran up his leg from the injured knee, and carefully eased himself down to sit.

_I can hear just fine from here,_ he thought, clicking the safety on his gun and shoving it into his waistband. _I'm __**not**__ going out there until she's gone, if I can help it! She's nice enough, I guess, but watching her make goo-goo eyes at Heero __**really**__ gets up my nose._

- - - - - -

Sitting hopefully on one side of the sofa, Relena didn't show her disappointment when Heero sat in the most distant chair instead of beside her; instead, she sipped her coffee and looked around. "Where are Duo and Wufei?"

She knew something was wrong when nobody answered her. Heero stared into his coffee; Quatre and Trowa looked at each other, then down and away.

"...Is there a problem?" she asked tentatively.

"Duo's asleep," Heero said, "and I'm **not** going to wake him up. He was injured in our last battle and needs the rest. Wufei..." He swallowed. "We don't know where Wufei is."

"He's missing?!"

"He's not **missing**," Quatre said abruptly, glaring at Heero. "We have to face it sooner or later. No matter what Duo insists on believing, he can't have survived that explosion. We couldn't even find any recognisable bits of Shenlong! Wufei is **gone**."

"**Bullshit**, Quatre! He's **not dead**!" Duo half-fell, half-slid into view on the stairs, clinging to the banister as his leg threatened to give way under him. "There's no way he woulda come through everything that's hit us so far and then get killed right at the end! He wouldn't **do** that to me! He knows-" Choking, Duo turned and began to scramble back upstairs, then went down with a cry of pain as his knee twisted and slammed into the edge of a step.

Heero got to him first, and Relena stopped short, swallowing past the sudden pain in her chest as she saw the expression on the Japanese pilot's face. _Oh. Oh, __**no**__..._

"Duo? Duo, are you all right?" Heero caught at Duo's shoulders, helping him to turn over so that the injured leg wasn't twisted underneath him.

"Wufei is **not** dead," Duo insisted through clenched teeth. "He's **not**!"

"Come on, Duo," Heero said softly, gathering him up in his arms. "Let's get you back to bed and take care of that knee... again. Somebody bring a bag of ice up," he tossed over his shoulder as he rose and started upstairs.

"I'll get it," Relena said quickly, almost running into the kitchen. Out of Quatre and Trowa's sight, she leaned on the bench, taking deep breaths as her fingers tightened around the coffee cup she still held.

_That... that can't have been what it looked like,_ she thought desperately, looking down at her shaking hands. _It just __**can't**__. Heero loves __**me**__, and now that the war's over he can start to show it, and we... we can..._ She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then straightened up and put the cup in the sink, moving with exaggerated care.

_Either that look on Heero's face wasn't what it looked like, or I have been... mistaken. I won't find out which by staying in here._

- - - - - -

"Do you think we should call Sally?" Quatre asked, looking up he stairs with a worried expression. "His knee's **not** getting better, he keeps doing more damage to it, and he's hit his head **twice**..."

Trowa shrugged. "It looks like we don't have to be quite so paranoid about hiding any more, at any rate. I'll call her."

"Excuse me," Relena said, squeezing past them with a large bag of ice and an armful of dish towels.

- - - - - -

Reaching the top of the stairs, Relena hesitated for a second, looking around; then she heard Duo's voice coming from an open doorway, and moved quietly in that direction.

"You think he's dead too, don't you?"

There was a pause; then, as Relena reached the door and peered around it, Heero sat down carefully on the bed next to Duo and answered him.

"I don't know." Duo grimaced and looked away, but Heero continued, reaching out towards the other boy's shoulder but pulling his hand back at the last moment. "If I said I was sure one way or another, it'd be a lie. It doesn't look good, but-" he shrugged "-it doesn't add up, either."

"What do you mean?"

"We didn't find any pieces of Shenlong. Quatre said '**recognisable** pieces', but we would have recognised them no matter what shape they were in; I sure as hell know the difference between Gundanium and steel or ceramic armour. So, we didn't find any bits, and neither did OZ. That means either Shenlong is in one piece somewhere, or it was **vaporised**, and if that explosion had been enough to vaporise a Gundam the rest of us would have taken a lot more damage. I don't know where Shenlong is, but I **don't** think it's in pieces on the battlefield."

"...so, what about Wufei?" Duo asked, so softly that Relena almost didn't hear him.

"I don't know," Heero said again, tentatively covering Duo's hand with his own; when Duo didn't pull away, he picked the limp hand up, holding it between his own. "He's nowhere near the battlefield, I know **that** - we or OZ would have found him if he were - but I don't see how he could have got out of scanner and screamer range so fast. Whatever happened, we **will** find out. We sent the doctors all the data we had; maybe they'll have an idea."

The two boys fell silent, and Relena leaned back, out of view if they glanced towards the door.

_It __**was**__ what it looked like,_ she thought, dazed. _He has the same look on his face now._

Duo. Heero's in love with _**Duo**__. How is that possible?! He never said anything- he never showed any signs-_

Her eyes widened as a sudden realisation hit her. _He never said anything about __**me**__, either. He never showed any signs of being in love with __**me**__... but I just thought that was because he couldn't let himself show it until the war was over and he had time to relax..._

Maybe I was _**half**__ right, at least._

Squaring her shoulders determinedly, Relena fixed a polite, concerned smile on her face and stepped forwards, tapping at the door. "Heero? I've brought the ice..."

* * * * *

The priest trembled with mingled fear and ambition, lying prostrate in front of the giant statue. "It is finished, my Lord, summoned and bound as you commanded. Have I done well?"

_=*It will do,*=_ came the answer, echoing in the priest's head. _=*You know the target; send it out as soon as night falls. Succeed, and I'll make you my Archpriest.*=_

"**Thank** you, my Lord! I won't fail you!"

The mental voice darkened. _=*You'd better not. I __**won't**__ tolerate anything less than complete success.*=_

"It is my one ambition to serve you, my Lord." The priest hesitated, then continued. "My Lord... I understand that a Champion of your enemies is with the target?"

_=*What of it? With __**my**__ help, you should have summoned a demon that can take care of them both. Unless __**you**__ did something wrong...*=_

"No, my Lord, I assure you! It's merely that the Champion may be able to sense the approach of **our** demon, especially since-"

_=*I'm aware of that,*=_ the god's voice snapped petulantly. _=*I will shield its approach.*=_

"You relieve my mind, Lord, and I beg pardon for troubling you with my concern. May I withdraw, to prepare?"

_=*Go.*=_

"**Thank** you, my Lord Sharna."

As the priest backed out on hands and knees, the dancing shadows cast by the tall candles around the altar made the huge stone scorpion seem to move.

* * * * *

For perhaps the tenth time, Gunnar watched Uthmar stand up, twitch at his belt, pace restlessly into the center of the square and gaze southwards, to where a section of the Spinewall humped itself up into rough hills; then he jerked at the axe slung over his shoulder and stamped back to his seat.

"Is something specific bothering you, m'lord Champion," Gunnar asked sweetly, "or do you just have ants in your revered breeches?"

Uthmar glared half-heartedly at his second-in-command for a moment, then jerked back onto his feet and started pacing. "Something's wrong," he growled, glaring at the hills, tinted gold by the late-afternoon sunlight. "Something is **badly** wrong, I know it, but damned if I can work out what!"

Gunnar sat up straight, eyes narrowing as his hand automatically dropped to his own axe-haft. "Can you get **any** details?"

The dwarf Champion shook his head impatiently. "Only that something **stinks**, somewhere in that tangle of hills to the south. I can't get- hm! It's fading... Torframos?" _Can you tell any more about it?_

=*Only that my _**favourite**__ nephew is meddling,*=_ a disgusted mental 'voice' responded.

_Sharna._

=*Who else? It's beginning to look as though he regards the Spinewall as his personal playground. One of his priests just did something big, but I can't tell what; there's probably a properly consecrated temple down there, and its shields are blocking us. The trace faded because Sharna put some of his personal power into hiding it.*=

Why didn't he hide it from the very beginning, if he can do that? He's not _**taunting**__ us, is he?_

Torframos snorted. _=*I doubt it; he's too much of a coward. He probably just forgot, until somebody reminded him.*=_

Not the brightest of the Dark Gods, I take it.

=*Quite the opposite. I love my brother Korthrala, but even he admits he's no thinker. Compared to Sharna, Korthrala's a genius.*=

Uthmar grinned, hitching at his weapon-harness again. _So, what are the chances that whatever-that-was has something to do with 'Sir' Demon Wufei and his big friend?_

=*Excellent. Almost certain, in fact; Sharna _**has**__ to be miffed about losing that other priest.*=_

Right. "Gunnar," he snapped, turning back towards the tables outside Gwent's inn, "put the men on alert, get all the villagers in from the fields, and pass the word to Lord Yithar's guardsmen. The Scorpion is stirring up something, and I doubt we'll like it when it arrives."

"Yes, sir!"

"I," Uthmar continued, nodding his head towards where Wufei was examining Nataku's armour in the last of the daylight, "will try to explain the situation to our friends."

"Better you than me, sir," Gunnar said cheerfully.

"Oh, shut up and get going!"

- - - - - -

After about an hour of earnest explanation, involving a lot of drawings scratched onto scraps of parchment, elaborate gestures, and enlisting Naiya's help, Uthmar was **reasonably** certain that Wufei understood that he was excited about something to the south.

"How's it going, sir?" Gunnar asked politely.

Uthmar threw up his hands, tossing his stick of charcoal down in the litter of parchments on the table. "I give up. I give up! He just doesn't know enough words, and I can't teach them to him fast enough."

"The drawings aren't helping?" Gunnar picked up a handful and peered at them, holding them close to the lantern.

"**You** try drawing a picture that will explain 'An evil god is annoyed at you for killing his priest and seems to be planning something, so watch out'," Uthmar grumbled.

"You **may** be getting too complicated, sir..."

Uthmar passed him the stick of charcoal and folded his arms challengingly.

"Right." Gunnar raised an eyebrow at his chief and picked one of the sketches out of his handful. "Wufei did this one, didn't he?"

Naiya leaned over for a look, and nodded. "That's the priest that summoned him and Nataku."

Gunnar quickly sketched a shadowy scorpion with something man-shaped on its back above the priest's head, and laid the drawing in front of Wufei. "Priest," he said clearly, pointing, "to Sharna. Uthmar is priest to Torframos," pointing to the golden pick embroidered on Uthmar's surcoat and then up at the sky.

"I'm a Champion, not-"

"Close enough, sir, shut up. Torframos is a **good** god. Sharna is an **evil** god, bad. You-" he pointed to Wufei, then Nataku "-killed the priest." Ripping the picture up, he tossed the pieces away over his shoulder and grinned. "Now Sharna is angry. Sharna is **there**-" he pointed south, towards the hills, invisible now in the dark "-and will come **here**, to **get** you." Screwing his face into a ferocious scowl, Gunnar pulled out a knife and threatened Wufei with it, then stepped back. "Understand? I hope I didn't insult his intelligence **too** much, sir..."

Wufei frowned. "Sharna's people fight?"

"Maybe people. Maybe demon. Fight, yes."

"Understand." The small demon nodded determinedly and got up, stalking off towards Nataku.

"'Sharna's people fight'. Why didn't **I** just say that?" Uthmar said incredulously. "'Sharna's people fight'. I've spent an **hour** trying to explain gods and temples and revenge!"

"You're welcome, sir," Gunnar said brightly.


	12. Chapter 11

"I should really go," Relena said softly, smiling apologetically. "I can see that I haven't come at the best time!"

"Normally we'd all love to help you out, Relena," Quatre said, lying on Heero's behalf without a twitch, "but... well, yes, right now isn't good. With Duo hurt and Wufei... gone..." He stopped, blinking hard and trying **not** to look as miserable as he was feeling.

"I understand," she assured him. "Quatre, could you give me a contact number I can reach you on? I realise you couldn't before, but surely now that the war is over you can relax security just a little! And I **am** going to need all your advice."

"Er... I shouldn't think it would be a problem," he said, pulling a notebook out of his pocket and quickly scribbling a number. "I don't have a direct number to give you, but if you leave a message with these people it'll reach me." _I'll have to e-mail Rashid and let him know she might be calling..._ "Just **please** don't give it to anyone else!" he added, tearing out the page and handing it over.

"I won't," she promised, tucking it away in her purse. "Give Heero and Duo my apologies, please."

Sitting in the back seat of her pink limousine as Pargan drove her away, Relena spared a moment to be grateful she'd grown up in a politician's family. It meant that none of the turmoil in her mind showed on her face...

_Heero and Duo._

Heero and Duo.

_**Heero**__ and __**Duo**__... I thought it was going to be Heero and __**me**__._

It

_**should**__ be Heero and me._

A faint frown creased the skin between her brows.

_He saved me so many times. He saved me even though he believed he should kill me. He __**must**__ have feelings for me. If Duo left... or Heero sent him away..._

Heero and

_**me**__._

Still frowning, Relena reached out and picked up the car phone, dialing her personal secretary.

"...Good morning, Catriona. I'm sorry to call you so early, but I need a little research done. ...No, I know where they are. This time, I need a background check. I want every scrap of information you can get on a Duo Maxwell, seventeen years old, from L2..."

Without realising it, Heero had progressed from just holding Duo's hand to examining it, tracing the lines and old scars with gentle fingers. He'd sat down on the bed next to Duo after rebandaging his knee and packing ice around it, and tentatively picked up his hand again; and once again, he'd felt his spirits lift when Duo didn't pull away.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Like shit," Duo admitted, grimacing. "Everything hurts."

"Want some painkillers?"

"Not really. They send me to sleep."

"You could probably do with some more sleep, you know."

"...All right. Um... you gonna stick around?" Duo asked.

Heero nodded. "Unless you want me to clear out?"

"Nah. Not right now," Duo muttered, looking away.

"Then I'll still be here when you wake up."

A couple of hours had passed with no sign of whatever attack Sharna was planning, and Lord Yithar had recovered from the near-panic he'd fallen into when Uthmar had given the alarm. Of course, this meant that he was now busily trying to regain face... and he couldn't think of any better way to do so than by denigrating and downgrading the situation. (Typical of him, really.)

"So where **is** this fearsome force we are to expect?" he sneered, waving one hand southward. "All **I** see tonight are stars, the moons, and torchbugs in the trees."

"The hills to the south **are** quite some distance away, my lord," Uthmar pointed out, resisting the urge to smack some sense into the idiot. "Two days' travel on horseback at least. Whatever force Sharna has mustered will have to cross that distance to reach us."

"Then **why** did you insist on raising the alarm **now**?!" the half-elf exclaimed. "Are we supposed to stay on guard for the next two days, jumping at shadows?!"

"If it's a demon instead of men on horseback, it may arrive considerably sooner than that!"

Yithar's expression wobbled for a moment, but settled back into his habitual sneer. "Feh! I don't believe anything **is** coming. The stress of your duties seems to have resulted in paranoia, **dwarf**." Spinning around, he strode off into the fields to the south.

"What the- what does that idiot think he's **doing**?!" Uthmar hissed under his breth.

"You see?" the haughty voice drifted back out of the darkness. "Nothing's attacked me yet!"

"We couldn't be that lucky," Gunnar muttered. "You know, sir, for a coward, he certainly takes some **stupid** chances."

"I noticed," Uthmar growled. "Karthan! Cameron! Go and fetch his lordship **back**."

"Certainly, sir," Cameron said promptly. "What if he doesn't want to come?"

"You can **drag** him, for all I- no. **Don't** do that." Uthmar squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a couple of deep breaths. "If he won't come back, stay with him; if something happens, try to haul him out of harm's way. And if he tries to go into the woods, **then** you can drag him back."

"Two silver says he won't come back," Karthan muttered to his taller friend as they walked off.

"I'm not taking that bet. Five copper says he heads for the woods, though."

"You're on."

"This job is **much** more fun when the local landowner says 'let me know if you need anything' and then stays out of our way, isn't it?" Gunnar said sympathetically, patting Uthmar's shoulder.

The Champion just growled. He hadn't been able to pick up anything concrete since that one burst of power in the southern hills had been snuffed out, but ever since then his instincts had been nagging at him, insisting that **something** was going to happen. Two hours spent waiting for the other shoe to drop would be enough to fray **anyone's** temper.

He turned around and stalked back across the village square to where Wufei and Royce were standing, muttering under his breath. "Stupid stuck-up idiot with fluff where he should be keeping his common sense..." Coming to a halt, he sighed heavily, flexing his shoulders to try and get some of the tension out of them. "Goodman Royce, you have my sympathy... and my admiration. **How** many years have you had to deal with **him**?"

The village headman started to answer, then smothered a cough behind his fist as one of Yithar's guardsmen walked past them to peer into the darkness after his lord. The cough sounded suspiciously like 'Too many'. "Five years, almost, m'lord Champion; but we don't see him much. So long as we cut his share of the wood and send it downriver to his factors, and his foresters don't report us doing anything wrong, he's just as happy to stay in his manor and only come round at tax time." The guardsman had gone out of earshot; Royce glanced quickly around, then lowered his voice and went on. "I dare say he'd leave **that** to his factors, as well, but his relatives wouldn't look kindly on it."

"Tax time?" Uthmar asked, puzzled. "Does he collect taxes for the lords in Bortalik?"

"It's rent really, m'lord, but the Purple Lords all call it tax," Royce muttered; at an inquiring look, he continued. "Defaulting on rent gets you evicted, you see, but tax evasion is treason. If you plead poverty, and they're feeling lenient, they just evict you, confiscate all your property, and put a lien on your future wages. If they're **not** feeling lenient, well... treason **is** a capital crime. It makes their tenants work harder."

Uthmar drew in a deep breath and bared his teeth in a humourless grin. "Ah. I **see**. No wonder the Purple Lords haven't accepted the militant orders' legal system. It's very specific about the difference between various sorts of financial obligations... rent and tax most **definitely** included."

"Now, what's got you all in a bait, Champion sir?" a deep voice rumbled. Wufei looked up and nodded a greeting to Cord as the huge hradani strolled up, logging axe slung over his shoulder.

"Goodman Royce is being kind enough to enlighten my ignorance about the difference between 'rent' and 'tax' in Purple Lord lands," Uthmar said pleasantly, through gritted teeth.

"Oh aye... you mean that there **is** no difference, am I right?" Cord grinned dangerously, leaning on Nataku's giant metal foot. "Many's the time I've wanted to deflate Puff Guts yonder," he said softly, jerking his head towards where Yithar was, presumably, still tempting Fate and demons to come get him, "but it'd do the village no good in the end, so I've held my hand and kept my tongue between my teeth."

"I've been wondering what brought a couple of hradani to a human village, actually," the dwarf mused, discarding the 'tax' topic for the moment but not forgetting it. "Let alone a village **here**. You're Horse Stealers, aren't you? From up north?"

"Aye, that we are. Iron Axe clan, from Hurgrum," Cord said calmly. "But I'll tell you straight out, little man," (Royce winced slightly at that, but Uthmar didn't seem to be taking it as an insult) "if it happened that you were to go asking after news of me up north, you'd find nobody who knew a Horse Stealer by my name at all, at all."

"I rather thought I wouldn't," Uthmar nodded. "It's not a very hradani-sounding name, after all. Not a single Z or K in it."

Cord laughed. "We **do** tend to call our sons Gurchak, or Yurgazh, or such."

"I wasn't actually thinking of asking questions up north," the dwarf replied, starting to relax a little as the cheerful banter distracted him from the niggling sensation in the back of his head. "Why should I, when I've got you right here to talk to? I-"

He cut off abruptly as Wufei stiffened, eyes glowing green.

Wufei had tuned out the others' conversations - he couldn't understand more than one word in four, after all -preferring instead to peer out into the dark fields to the south, looking for any sign of movement.

_Not that I __**am**__ peering,_ he thought wryly, watching one of Yithar's guardsmen squinting blindly into the night. _I don't think anyone else can see much beyond the torches and lanterns around the square, but to me it looks like early twilight. Those big gold fireflies... what did Naiya call them again? Torchbugs? There's so many of them in the forest, I think I could read a book by their light._ He sighed quietly, leaning back on Nataku's leg. _Yet __**another**__ effect of my link to my Gundam?_

At least I no longer have to resist panic every time something like this happens.

What

_**does**__ that idiot Yithar think he's doing?_ Wufei thought irritably, watching the half-elf lord stamp around in burnt stubble and pointedly ignore the two lay brothers who were patiently following him around. _Perhaps he thinks he's proving a point?_

The cold metal behind his back suddenly warmed, and Wufei stiffened as a flood of information and images poured into him from Nataku. It was like a strange form of double vision; there was the quiet scene in front of him, with trees and torchbugs and an idiot lord stumbling around in the dark, but there was also a second image, from a higher point of view- _From Nataku's main camera,_ Wufei thought, and then forced himself to stop thinking about **how** and concentrate on **what** he was seeing. There were data labels and targeting information overlaid on his vision, as if he was looking at one of the cockpit screens. He could see Yithar and the lay brothers, glowing bright in infrared, and a few spots in the trees that were probably nocturnal animals moving around...

...and a sickly green blob in the distance.

As he tried to focus on the glowing spot, the image centred on it and zoomed in. It was still miles away, shining through the trees from underneath; then a data label popped up next to it, and he swore.

| UNIDENTIFIED ENERGY SOURCE  
| RANGE: 4.2 MILES  
| ESTIMATED SPEED: 5 - 350 MPH

_That's the same sort of energy that pulled me out of the void- __**what**__?!_ He blinked at the floating digits. _How can it be travelling at somewhere between five and __**three hundred and fifty**__ miles an hour?!_

The distant image tracked slowly, keeping the blob of light centred as it seemed to flow **through** the trees; then the blob speared forwards into a long worm-shape, and the trees blurred past as the image kept tracking it.

_Oh. That's how. __**Either**__ five or- it'll be here in less than a minute if it keeps that up!_

Tearing his attention away from the translucent second image, Wufei blinked as he realised that Uthmar was standing in front of him, one hand on his arm; he said something that sounded like a question, but Wufei didn't have time to try to puzzle it out.

_Gods damn it, what's the local word for 'demon' again? -Ah!_

"Krechak," he snapped, pointing south. "Come **now. Fast**!"

Uthmar's eyes widened for an instant; then he spun around and began bellowing orders as Wufei bolted for Nataku's hatch.

Following a Purple Lord around a half-burned grain field at night, stumbling over clods of earth while clouds of fine ash floated up and generously distributed themselves over his clothes, was **not** Karthan's idea of a good time. It wasn't Cameron's idea of a good time, either, but Karthan thought he had the worst of it.

"At least you're up high enough that the ash isn't going up your **nose**," he muttered, glaring up at the human. "And you won't have to brush it out of your beard, either- _haa*CHOO*_!"

"I don't **have** a beard," Cameron pointed out.

"By point egzackly," the dwarf replied in a muffled voice, vigorously shaking his kerchief to get the ash off before mopping his runny nose.

"Console yourself with the thought that you're probably going to win those five coppers," his friend recommended, nodding towards Lord Yithar and lowering his voice even further. "His Annoying Lordship is staying **well** clear of the woods. Looks like cowardice has outweighed stupidity."

"Why couldn't he be coward enough to stay out of the **fields**, then?"

"Because-"

"-we couldn't be that lucky," they chorused, and grinned at each other; then Karthan sneezed again, and went back to grumbling as he dragged his kerchief out of his pocket once more.

"Everybody back in the square NOW!" Uthmar roared from the village. "Order of Torframos, form line on the southern side! Armsmen, form line behind the Order! All noncombatants to the north end of the village and make ready to leave!"

There was a faint tremor through the ground underfoot, and all the torchbugs to the south of the village blinked out. Karthan and Cameron exchanged one eloquent glance in the dim moonlight, then lunged at Yithar.

"Who does that upstart commoner think he's fool- EEYAH! What- who- put me **down**! I **demand** that you unhand me at once!"

"Would you rather stay here and get eaten by a demon, m'lord?" Cameron inquired politely, clamping Yithar's left arm to his side as he ran. Karthan's grip was a little inelegant, involving the slack material in the half-elf's breeches, but it did the job; Yithar's feet were scrabbling helplessly a few inches above the ground.

"The only demon in the area is straight **ahead**, you fools!" Yithar screeched, flailing around with his free arm and kicking frantically.

There was another jolt through the ground, strong enough to make several trees shudder and drop leaves, just as Yithar hooked one foot behind Cameron's knee and yanked hard. The combination was enough to send all three of them sprawling; Yithar scrambled up onto his hands and knees, spitting out ashes and dirt, took one look at Nataku's glowing green eyes rising above the village rooftops, and took off southwards like a hunted rabbit.

"Bloody **hellfire** - Come back here, you blithering idiot!" Karthan bellowed, sprinting after him. Cameron limped in their wake, swearing about the pain in his wrenched knee.

"I'm not stayng here to be killed by your precious pet monsters!" the half-elf screamed, stumbling towards the dark forest. "I'm going to register a complaint with my cousin Taihar! He's in the **army**! And-" The breath went out of his body in a pained grunt as he tripped and fell, choking on ash. The ground shuddered again, pushing up into a low mound between him and the treeline, but he didn't see it; he had rolled over onto his back and was staring up at Nataku, stalking towards him with its right arm raised. A fanged head seemed to grow out of the end of it, replacing the hand, and it lashed out at him-

-passing over his head and plunging into the ground **behind** him, spraying him with clods of earth but not crushing him as he'd expected.

"It... only wanted to **scare** me?" he whimpered as Karthan skidded to a halt next to him. "It- that- that beast is **dead**, I swear I'll see it **dead** for this insult-"

Then the earth seemed to explode as **something** reared up out of the mound, shrieking like a damned soul, and a sudden stink told Karthan that the Purple Lord had done worse than wet his pants **this** time.

Wufei struck with Nataku's dragon-arm again, driving the demon back a little further, trying to give the small figures in front of it time to get away. It was an indistinct, writhing mass, warbling on a half-dozen teeth-jarring notes. Thick tentacles tipped with circular, fang-filled mouths lashed out from the central mass, then seemed to be absorbed back into it, and the whole thing was glowing an unhealthy shade of green.

_It doesn't seem to have any real shape,_ he thought, batting away several mouths and firing a short burst of anti-personnel fire into it from the gunports on Nataku's head; it absorbed the bullets without visible effect. _I think a lot of it's still underground, too; I'll have to watch out for it bringing another section of itself up behind me..._

In front of Nataku's feet, Karthan picked Yithar up and bodily **threw** him into Cameron's arms as the human came panting up, then pulled his axe off his back and started to back warily away, covering Cameron as he turned around and started running back to the village.

_I'd rather he ran too,_ Wufei thought, gritting his teeth as fangs struck Nataku's armour and scraped along it with a noise like giant fingernails on a blackboard, _but at least he's out of the way-_

Green light seemed to well up out of the ground under Karthan's feet.

_Shit! He can't __**see**__ it!_ "Karthan! RUN!"

The dwarf shot a startled look upwards and leapt sideways just as a tentacle burst up out of the earth where he'd been standing. It struck him a glancing blow, staggering him, then lashed out and clubbed him to the ground. More green light began to appear in patches around him.

"TORFRAMOS!"

A glowing gold axe spun into view, slashed through the tentacle as it bent towards Karthan, and whirled back to Uthmar's hand as he came charging up. **He** was glowing golden too, blazing with energy, and the wounded tentacle shrank away into the ground as he approached.

Fifteen **more** tentacles, however, sprouted from the demon's body, and spots of green light were starting to appear all over the field.

_Cameron and Yithar are well clear,_ Wufei thought hurriedly, squashing a brief ignoble regret that Yithar had gotten away without a scratch, _and everyone else is staying well back. Whatever Uthmar is doing, he seems to be doing it well! But Karthan is __**not**__ going to get clear._

The dwarf Champion was cutting down every tentacle that attacked him, and by the way the demon recoiled and screeched every time it was struck, it seemed as if the glowing axe was hurting it. It was also clear that Uthmar could see the green glow that showed where the demon was launching an attack from underground, because several times he slashed into the ground, driving tentacles back down before they could emerge. He was protecting Karthan as well as himself, and the other dwarf was trying to get to his feet, but Wufei didn't think he'd make it in time.

It didn't take more than a second for him to come to a decision.

Struggling to breathe despite the pain in his back and side, Karthan heaved himself up onto his hands and knees. _This would undoubtably be a very heroic way to die,_ he thought sourly (and a little light-headedly), _but I __**really**__ don't want my last act in this life to be saving that idiot Yithar!_

[ [ Move ] ], a deep, metallic voice snapped, and Nataku stepped towards him.

"I'm **trying**," Karthan wheezed, glaring up at the giant demon. _Not so giant, actually, now that I've seen this other one,_ he thought, mind wandering dizzily. _Is that Wufei or Nataku talking?_

[ [ Uthmar, **move ] ]**, the voice repeated; then one hand swept the long metal staff off Nataku's back, slashing at the multitude of attacking tentacles and forcing them back for a moment - just long enough for the **other** hand to swoop down and pick Karthan up. He had one brief, vertigo-inducing glimpse of the ground dropping away beneath him before he was deposited, reasonably gently, on a smooth metal slab.

"Karthan, **in**!" Wufei said urgently, beckoning from inside the... hole? cave? in Nataku's chest.

_He's tied to the chair?_ Karthan thought, confused, crawling shakily into the offered shelter. He didn't trust his legs to support him, especially not with Nataku swaying and jolting as it fended off more attacks.

As soon as the dwarf was within reach, Wufei caught the back of his tunic and hauled him in, pulling him around behind the strange padded chair. "Hold," he commanded, then reached out and tapped something; the quality of the light changed, and when Karthan looked up he saw that a heavy metal door had closed over the entrance.

He had only a few moments to take in the strange surroundings - green and yellow lights, and chirping noises, and strange windows that didn't seem to be looking out on the same view from one moment to the next - before the small room tilted and shook violently, almost tearing him away from his grip on the back of the chair. Wufei spat out something that sounded like swear words as a section of lights abruptly turned red, and then the shriek of tearing metal came from somewhere nearby.

"I just twisted the damn thing," Duo insisted stubbornly as Sally carefully felt at his knee. "I don't need to- OW!"

"Sorry," she said absent-mindedly, fingers probing around his kneecap. "You may have 'just twisted' it to begin with, Duo, but it's not 'just twisted' now. I'll bet you haven't been resting much, have you?"

"Well..."

"You **definitely** haven't been staying off your feet. How many times have you fallen over or hit it since the original injury?"

"Um... three. I think."

"This last time, he didn't just hit it; he twisted it as he went down," Heero added.

Standing up, Sally shot a sardonic glance at her patient. "You may all be tougher than any normal human has a right to be, but even you have to take it easy when you're injured! I think you've damaged the tendons in that knee, and maybe the cartilage as well, so I'm going to book you in for an MRI scan and x-rays. It's an outpatient procedure, so you won't have to stay at the hospital overnight," she added as Duo started to look even more mutinous. _Unless it turns out that you need surgery..._

Duo didn't actually agree, but he didn't argue any more either; he just hunched down underneath the covers and looked sulky. Heero found himself staring at Duo's mouth, remembering how he'd tasted when they kissed, wondering what it would feel like to kiss the pout away...

"-all right, Heero?"

"Huh?"

"I **said**," Sally drawled with exaggerated patience, "I can get Duo booked into the local hospital, no questions asked, early tomorrow morning. However, I can't arrange transport without making people curious. Can you handle that end of things?"

"Oh. Yeah. Fine," he stuttered.

She looked at him oddly, but didn't say anything more until she'd finished rebandaging Duo's knee and repacked her bag; then she shoved it into his hands and turned to the door. "You dragged me out here on my rostered day off, so **you** can carry that out to the car," she tossed over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Duo!"

"(mumble mumble) who had the bright idea to call **her** anyway (mumble mumble)," Duo bitched under his breath.

"All right, talk," Sally ordered Heero as soon as they were outside.

"...About what?"

"Heero, you waylaid me just outside Duo's door and muttered 'Don't mention Wufei'," she said acidly, opening the boot of the car for him to deposit her bag inside. "Did you honestly think I wouldn't want to find out **why**?"

He grimaced. "I could hope."

"Cough it up," she advised him. "The war is officially over, and it actually seems to be for real. This is a very odd time for Chang to... leave? Argue with the rest of you? Desert?"

"Vanish," Heero sighed, giving in to the inevitable.

"Ah. I see. Missing, presumed... what?"

"Quatre believes he's dead. Duo is extremely insistent that he's **alive**, and gets very upset when the subject is raised. I don't know what Trowa thinks, but he's not disagreeing with Quatre in public."

"What's your opinion?"

"I... am reserving judgement."

"In other words, you think Quatre's right but you don't want to upset Duo," she said, mouth twisting.

"No," he snapped, "I want more information before I make up my mind! I don't want to upset Duo, but I'm **not** going to lie to him." He snorted briefly. "That would piss him off worse than if I disagreed with him on this, I think."

"Well... I hope Duo's right," she sighed. "Keep me informed?"

"All right."

It was roughly an hour later, after Heero had **finally** managed to cook breakfast, that Trowa heard his laptop beep and checked his mail.

"What is it?" Quatre asked, muting the TV and cutting off a reporter who was enthusing about the 'deep significance for future generations of today's historic events'.

"Go get Heero," Trowa replied, staring fixedly at the screen. "It's from the doctors... about Wufei."


	13. Chapter 12

"I don't get it," Duo said, scowling at Trowa's laptop.

"Neither do I," Quatre admitted, sitting back and rubbing at his eyes.

Heero had insisted that Duo had to be present when they read the message from the doctors, so everyone was gathered around Duo's bed. A little creative thought applied to the seating arrangements ensured that they all could see the screen, and **also** meant that Heero got to sit on the bed next to Duo.

Unfortunately, no one could understand the message.

It started out simply enough; after careful study of the Gundams' battle logs and instrument recordings, plus the plans and test records of the weapon that had blown up in Nataku's face (stolen by Heero and Trowa), the doctors believed that they had a good idea of what had happened to Wufei. Then it got technical. The pilots could follow the explanation partway, but when it got to concepts like 'elastic resonance', 'space-time curvature' and 'the Trousers of Time theory', they lost track.

"I think they invented a new symbolic alphabet to use in those equations," Trowa muttered. "Can **you** make any sense of it, Heero?"

"No." Growling, Heero grabbed his own laptop from the bedside table and hammered at the keys, then sat back and waited.

[ [ Heero, my boy, ] ] Dr.J said, popping up on screen. [ [ Did you get our email? ] ]

"Yes, but you neglected to decode it before you sent it," he snapped. "Next time you send something important, write it in English, or Japanese, or Arabic, or one of the dozen languages Trowa speaks. **Don't** use mathematical jargon that you're making up as you go along!"

[ [ He sounds a little upset, ] ] Dr. G commented in the background. [ [ Maybe we should have provided a synopsis? ] ]

J blinked. [ [ Are you feeling all right, Heero? ] ]

"I'm **fine**. Spit it out in plain language. What happened to Wufei?!"

[ [ I see that Maxwell is finally rubbing off on you, ] ] J said, a smile slowly growing on his face. [ [ It's about time, too; you need to relax more. Now, about Chang- ] ]

"**Is** he alive?" Quatre blurted out. "Where is he?"

[ [ Well. Hm. That part's a bit problematical. The explosion itself did **not** kill him, we can say that for sure. Whether he's alive now is another matter entirely. ] ]

"What do you mean?" Duo whispered.

[ [ Ah, Maxwell, nice to see you. Hm. How should I put this? Plain language, hmmm... yes. ] ] J paused for a moment, then nodded decisively. [ [ The explosion ripped a hole in the universe and blew him through it. ] ]

*blink*blink*

"And that means... what?" Trowa asked slowly. "In terms of Wufei, and his survival and getting him **back**."

G pushed in next to J. [ [ Let **me**, you old fart. You all understand the concept of alternate universes, yes? ] ]

"Universes where things turned out differently in history," Quatre said numbly. "Like... if the colonies never got started, or different sides won wars."

[ [ Yes, but the change in history could have come much earlier, ] ] G pointed out. [ [ Evolution could have produced intelligent races other than human, for example, or, the laws of physics could be entirely different if the Big Bang had gone differently. This is the 'Trousers of Time' theory; you start with one reality, like the waist of a pair of pants, and then you reach a decision point at the crotch. If things go one way, you go down the left leg; if they go the other way, you go down the **right** leg. Of course, this is a massively simplified metaphor, ] ] he added. [ [ Our imaginary pair of trousers has to have an infinite number of legs, dividing at an infinite number of points. ] ]

"Of course," Trowa muttered.

[ [ What that weapon was **supposed** to do was pull a little energy from the boundaries between universes - the fabric of the trousers, if you will - convert it to destructive energy, light, heat, radiation and so forth, and shoot it at convenient targets. They seem to have managed quite a remarkable conversion efficiency in their trials; they got a lot more out than they put in. I can think of quite a few peacetime applications for this process... ] ] G gazed off into space for a few seconds, muttering, then shook himself. [ [ Sorry. Back to the point. That weapon had more than enough destructive potential to destroy a Gundam, **if** all went well. It didn't. They hadn't finished developing it, so it was unstable, and they hadn't finished **building** it, either, so it wasn't properly shielded or armoured. And then Chang hit it at exactly the right moment, with exactly the right weapon. ] ]

"Exactly the **wrong** moment, don't you mean?" Duo said bitterly.

[ [ I said what I meant, Duo, ] ] G said sternly, peering out of the screen at him. [ [ He hit it at the exact moment it fired, with a thermal blade. If he'd struck before it fired, it would have blown up in a conventional explosion and probably killed him. If he'd struck after, well... he wouldn't have gotten the chance. And if he'd hit it with something that wasn't an energy weapon, it could have either blown up, or fired and **then** blown up. ] ]

"So... what **did** it do?" Quatre asked, eyes wide.

G spread his hands. [ [ Chang struck just as it was accessing the energy that forms the walls between the universes. The energy from his thermal blade caused it to... burp. Or perhaps 'hiccup' is the most appropriate word. It accessed a **much** larger amount of energy than it was designed to handle. Returning to our metaphor, it pulled a section of trouser fabric into our world, and when it snapped back into its proper shape it pulled Chang and his Gundam with it. The side effects manifested themselves as a large-ish explosion; I can't explain **that** part to you without talking about eleven-dimensional math and superstring theory. ] ]

[ [ We therefore have Chang floating around in the space between trouser legs. ] ]

The four pilots looked at him with wide eyes.

[ [ That wouldn't harm him, ] ] G hastened to add, [ [ according to the mathematical model we've come up with. Although he would be outside our universe, and therefore outside the influence of its physical laws, we believe that matter taken out of a universe will continue to 'remember' that universe's laws until it enters another. Oxygen would continue to combine with carbohydrates to release energy within his cells, water would continue to be liquid within the appropriate temperature range, and so on. This would continue until he was drawn into another universe. Matter isn't **supposed** to float around between universes, so he'd get pulled into one quite quickly. ] ]

[ [ O has an interesting theory about that, ] ] J interrupted, leaning over G's shoulder. [ [ He thinks that matter would be preferentially drawn to universes that operate under similar physical laws. ] ]

[ [ Yes, ] ] G said, swatting irritably at J, [ [ so Chang's not likely to have arrived in a universe where he couldn't survive, or where Shenlong wouldn't function. Anything beyond that is up to him. ] ]

"Can we... is there... is there anything we can **do**?" Heero stuttered.

G shook his head. [ [ Oh, we could recreate the incident and blow **you** out of the universe, too, but we'd have no way to make sure you went to the same place as Chang. And we'd have no way of getting anything **back**. ] ]

[ [ All we can realistically do is hope that O is right. Hope that Chang ended up somewhere he can live, and that he hasn't gotten himself in trouble. ] ]

* * * * *

Metal screamed as the demon forced its tentacles into the hole in Nataku's armour and started to tear it open.

_Shit!_ Wufei thought, wrenching at the controls as alert messages popped up on his screen, warning of growing damage to the systems in Nataku's left lower back. _That's the only breach that hadn't started to seal itself- I can't even pull away!_ More tentacles were coiled around the Gundam's legs and lower torso, holding it in place. Uthmar had been driven back as the demon pulled more of itself above ground and tried to surround him.

An entire section of the control panel blazed red as the demon reached the control runs for Nataku's legs, and Wufei screamed as pain exploded in his own back.

- - - - - -

Wedged securely behind Wufei's chair, Karthan held on grimly as the small room seemed to try and bounce him around like dice in a cup. After several long seconds, it came to rest at a strange angle - the back wall was now the floor, tilted to the side - and he relaxed slightly, alert for the next change.

_It's wonderful how the prospect of imminent death clears your mind,_ he thought dryly. _I suppose Nataku's fallen over? I'd better stay put, he'll be getting up soon-_

Something warm and slightly sticky dripped onto his hand.

_Blood?!_

Wincing with every movement, Karthan squirmed out from behind the chair and stood up, leaning over the black- haired demon. Wufei seemed to be unconscious, limp hands fallen onto his stomach, and a thin line of blood was trickling from underneath him.

_I heard him yell,_ Karthan thought, carefully sliding a hand between Wufei and the chair back, _but I don't see how he could be wounded. Especially there-_ His probing fingers found a blood sodden area of cloth, and his eyes widened. _He's hurt all right- I can __**feel**__ the hole- but there's nothing that could have cut him, and his shirt's not ripped!_

Nataku shuddered around them, another groan of tortured metal came from below Karthan's feet, and more blood flowed over his hand as he felt the wound tear wider.

_Oh, __**hells**__! If it happens to Nataku, it happens to Wufei?! That demon's going to rip them apart, Nataku's not moving, and Uthmar said Terrin thinks Nataku __**can't**__ move without Wufei-_

"Wufei!" he said urgently, hands gripping the small demon's arms and leaving bloody marks. "Wufei, wake up!"

- - - - - -

He felt as though his back was on fire.

Wufei suppressed a pained groan as he forced his eyes open. A dim shape was bending over him, speaking urgently, and he could see the stars... then he blinked his eyes clear, and the 'stars' resolved themselves into the lights on Nataku's control panels. Far too many of them were red.

"Wufei!" Karthan said, then babbled a flood of unintelligible words. He sounded relieved, but worried at the same time. "An'tiyar krechak sa daru-"

_Krechak. Demon. It started ripping into Nataku, and __**I**__ felt it..._ Wufei pressed one hand against his side, feeling wet warmth, and lifted it into view, dripping blood.

_This is rather more serious than just feeling pain._

Where is it _**now**__?!_

Something in his back twisted and ripped, and he choked, clutching at Karthan as pain burned into him. _...I can't feel my left leg,_ he thought hazily, panting as the pain began to recede slightly. Without looking, he knew there was an alert message on screen telling him that Nataku's left leg was no longer operational. _It's torn out the control systems... heading for the power plant... if that blows, the whole village is dead!_

Snarling, he opened his eyes and grabbed for the controls.

_I will not die like this!_

- - - - - -

Karthan yelped and staggered back, slipping on the blood, as Wufei's eyes glowed green and he snarled. Crackles of white energy ran over Wufei's skin, reaching out for the walls and blinking lights, and then they reached out for **him**-

Everywhere Wufei's blood had touched Karthan, white fire burned into him, and suddenly it felt as though someone had stabbed him in the back.

- - - - - -

Wufei felt the link to Nataku open up inside his mind, and this time he tore it open further and dove through. The Gundam's systems unfolded around him like a glowing blueprint and white fire ran along the lines, jumping the gaps where damage had broken the connections, bringing darkened sections back to life- and pulling along with it another presence, tumbling in the flow. Curious, Wufei reached out and touched it.

_Karthan?_

Wufei? What in the name of Krahana's Hells is this?!

I'm not sure. I've never done this before... but I seem to know what to do.

Well, _**that's**__ comforting- hey! I can understand you!_

I noticed, Wufei thought dryly. _Convenient. Be quiet for a moment; I need to concentrate._ Part of him could feel Nataku's computer clock, ticking away the milliseconds like slow drops of water, so he knew everything was proceeding with astonishing speed... but another part of him nagged at him to get it done **now**, get out and finish the fight **now**, so he hurried.

Carefully, working on instinct, Wufei stretched himself out across Nataku's systems, sliding into the Gundam as if it were a suit of clothes. Where Nataku was damaged, white fire burned, using Wufei as a template for repairs; wires and ceramics and armour moved, joining together, and bits of demon tentacles that were in the way just vaporised. The process of repair sped up as he gained confidence, jumping from spot to spot until it reached the area where he was wounded too... and then it stopped. The schematic of Nataku's left leg remained stubbornly dark.

Wufei pushed at the white fire, nudging a little of it into the dark area, and watched in dismay as it sputtered out. _It can't use me as a proper template any more,_ he realised, frustrated. _It doesn't work where damaged areas overlap..._

Karthan caught his next thought before it was more than half-formed, and pushed forwards. _I'm not hurt,_ he thought. _At least, not there. Use __**me**__ as a template!_

Wufei recoiled slightly. _I don't know if it will work that way!_ he protested. _The damage might transfer to you!_

So? I'll take that chance, the dwarf persisted. _It could work. If we don't at least __**try**__, you and Nataku are left half crippled and that damn squirming blob will eat us all for lunch. Do it!_

He reached out and pulled himself into the meld.

- - - - - -

Uthmar hacked viciously at the multiplying tentacles, his god's energy blazing around him like gold fire, and felt the first touch of despair well up in his heart. _It's too strong, Torframos,_ he thought, jumping away from a strike. _I'm hurting it, but not enough! It pulled Nataku down so fast- I can't even __**see**__ him any more- it keeps bringing more of itself up from underground, and sooner or later it's going to get in a solid blow._ The thing had already managed to graze him a few times; the wounds were minor, but the fact that **any** damage had made it through the energy surrounding him was worrying.

_=* If I'd had any idea __**this**__ was going to turn up, I would have sent at __**least**__ two more champions with you,*=_ Torframos said grimly. _=*I would have asked my brother Semkirk for half a dozen of his magi, too!*=_

I don't suppose you could offer a quick promotion to a few of the men? Uthmar asked, half laughing, half serious.

_=*I would if I could,*=_ the god returned; Uthmar could feel a quick smile in the back of his head. _=*The situation is serious enough to warrant skipping over a few formalities! Unfortunately, it takes a rare sort of mortal to handle a god pouring energy through them without going mad. Gunnar and Karthan have possibilities, and so do those two hradani, but if they ever become champions, they won't be mine. They don't __**think**__ quite the right way.*=_ Torframos sighed. _=*You seem to be holding its attention, at least. The innocents in the village have time to run.*=_

Run to _**where**__?!_ Uthmar growled, hacking through a tentacle and jumping backwards again. _They can't run fast enough to get away if this thing decides to go after them once it's through with me!_

=*If-*=

The demon suddenly writhed and screeched, pulling all of its tentacles back into the main mass, shrivelling like a spider in a flame.

_=*Do you feel that?! That energy?*=_

It's like when Wufei hit the archer-

Nataku's fanged arm burst up out of the demon's body, belching white fire.

- - - - - -

Karthan held on to Wufei, hands knotted in his shirt, gritting his teeth as he felt blood beginning to trickle down his back. Wufei had an arm wrapped around Karthan's shoulders and the other hand glued to Nataku's controls with his own drying blood; short spits of white energy linked all three of them together.

"That's enough," Wufei thought/spoke along the link. _You're starting to take damage._

"No, it's not," Karthan growled. He could feel the white fire still working in Nataku's and Wufei's wounds, and knew exactly how much damage remained to be fixed. _You're not tossing me out until __**I'm**__ satisfied._

Do you argue with Uthmar when _**he**__ tells you to do something for your own good?_ Wufei thought, amused despite himself.

_Sometimes. Gunnar usually handles it._

Wufei laughed out loud as he/they slashed into the demon.

- - - - - -

_**Now**__ we have a chance,_ Uthmar grinned, tightening his grip on his axe. "TORFRAMOS!" he bellowed, and charged.

Nataku had gotten to its feet and was carving into the demon with its staff, green and white energy crackling from the head of it. It was working; the cuts stayed open, leaking green energy and repulsive fluids, and when a tentacle was chopped off it didn't flow back into the body. It just lay on the ground, twitching and beginning to dissolve. Wailing, the thing started to pull itself back underground.

"Oh no you **don't**," Uthmar snarled, and slammed his axe into the earth, releasing the golden energy burning around him through the blade and forcing the demon back to the surface.

[ [ **Thank** you, ] ] Nataku rumbled, and rammed its fanged arm into the next mouth that opened, burning the thing to a crisp from the inside out.

- - - - - -

It wasn't quite as simple as that, of course. Bits of the demon's body continued to twitch and writhe for some time, and had to be hacked to pieces and burned into submission; but ordinary axes and fire would work on it now, and Uthmar's lay brothers were more than willing to take care of it. It was the middle of the night by the time they were finished, but none of the villagers complained that they wanted to be in bed instead of hauling wood for the bonfires. **Nobody** wanted to go to sleep and have some forgotten bit of the monster burrow up through their floor.

Yithar's three healthy armsmen wanted to help, too, but their hysterical lord ordered them to stay by his side.

"He's sitting on Royce's bed with his feet pulled up so that his knees are under his chin, watching the floor," Naiya reported when she brought Uthmar a drink. "His guards are creeping around on tiptoe, because if they step heavily the floor creaks and he screams."

"Has he changed his pants, yet?" Cameron asked curiously, limping up to take a drink out of Naiya's bucket.

"Oh, yes," she said demurely. "He didn't start quaking until **after** he'd had a bath... and complained about the size of the tub and the quality of the soap he was offered."

"Why am I not surprised?" Uthmar sighed.

"Because you're a man who can see past the end of his own nose, Champion sir," Cord said genially, dumping his load of wood and reaching for the bucket. "Ahhh... that's better. D'you think those lads will be coming out any time soon?" he asked, wiping his chin and nodding to where Nataku stood, watching over the proceedings.

"Wufei doesn't strike me as the sort to take a break until the job's finished." Uthmar mused, scratching his beard. "Karthan's the same. I'd guess they'll stay in there until we're finished, just in case the beast has any nasty surprises left. I don't think it does, though."

_=*It doesn't,*=_ Torframos told him. _=*The last bit with any life in it just went up in smoke. A job well done, I think...*=_

- - - - - -

Wufei shifted slightly, wincing in pain as the link broke apart. He'd been aware of the damage to his body while he was linked to Karthan and Nataku, of course, but it had been a distant sort of knowledge, rather like reading a damage report. Now that he was completely inside his own head, however, the wound was getting personal.

Karthan sat back, grimacing as he flexed cramped fingers, and said something.

"I have no idea what you just said," Wufei said in Chinese, trying to unstick his hand from the controls without making Nataku sidestep.

Karthan blinked in confusion for a moment, then sighed as he realised their understanding had slipped away when the link ended. Reaching out, he carefully helped Wufei peel his fingers away from the dried blood, then clasped his wrist and looked into his face.

"Friends?"

"Friends," Wufei replied, smiling despite his exhaustion as he returned the grip.

Once Nataku was back in the village square and sitting down, they staggered out onto the armour 'drawbridge', supporting each other, and gazed down at the ground. "Down, how?" Karthan asked, looking dubiously at the drop.

Wufei grinned. "Jump." He didn't understand much of Karthan's reply, but gathered that he was being instructed to do something anatomically impossible with his sense of humour. Snickering, he pulled the drop wire out of its cache and activated it, lowering them both to the waiting hands below.

* * * * *

"Duo? Heero?" Quatre peeked around the door, carrying a laden tray. "We made lunch..."

"Thanks," Heero muttered, getting up to take the tray and put it on the bedside table. Duo moved a little, but otherwise remained an anonymous lump under the bedcover.

"Come on, Duo, sit up," Quatre coaxed, tugging at the top blanket. "Trowa helped, so it's better than my cooking usually is, I promise."

"I'm not hungry," Duo muttered.

"You have to eat **something**! Starving yourself isn't going to-"

"He ate a good breakfast," Heero interrupted, glaring. "Skipping lunch hardly qualifies as **starving**, Quatre. Leave him alone." He herded the blond boy out the door, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I'll try to get him to eat, but nagging is **not** going to work. Back off," he hissed and closed the door in Quatre's face.

"...thanks, Heero," Duo said quietly as he sat down again.

"Uh... no problem," Heero replied, flustered. "Do you mind if I eat? I'll take the tray downstairs if you'd prefer it."

"S'okay."

"Thanks. There'll be plenty left if you get hungry later." Heero quickly made his choices, taking mostly food that wouldn't taste as good once it got cold. As he ate, he thought about how he could persuade Duo to change his mind but couldn't come up with anything that seemed likely to work.

_Nagging will just make him stubborn,_ he thought helplessly, chewing without tasting the mouthful. _I suppose I could tell him Wufei wouldn't want him to stop eating... __**fuck**__, no. I am __**not**__ going to try emotional blackmail!_

To hell with it, he decided eventually, putting his empty plate back on the tray. _Like I told Quatre, skipping lunch doesn't qualify as starving. If he says he's not hungry at dinnertime, I'll try to think of something then._

Duo stirred and sat up, sniffing and wiping at his face. "I guess I will eat something," he said. "Thanks for not nagging me, Heero. I don't think I could've handled that right now."

"Didn't think it would work, or I might have," Heero said truthfully, turning away slightly to hide his face as he started to fill Duo's plate. _Well, at least I got __**that**__ right..._

- - - - - -

That night, after Duo had eaten dinner and drifted off to sleep, Heero sat by his bed and watched his face in the dimness.

_He's not taking this well, at all,_ Heero thought. _He hardly spoke today... just lay in bed and shut himself off. I can't tell what he's thinking._ He grimaced. _Of course, I don't exactly have a good track record of telling what Duo's thinking._

I'm not sure how _**I**__ feel about losing Wufei._

In a weird sort of way we were friends, he thought slowly. _We saved each other's lives a few times... I was comfortable around him, even when I was focussed on 'the mission' above everything else, and it wasn't just because I knew he wouldn't bother me. I respected him._

It hurt when Trowa told me Wufei was angry at me for mistreating Duo. More than just jealousy. I hope that wasn't entirely true...

This would be a lot easier if we knew he was dead, Heero decided, shifting in the chair. _We could all mourn him and move on. Not being sure... hoping he's all right somewhere, and fearing he's not... this could drag on forever._

Duo's breath hitched in his throat and Heero leaned forwards; the sleeping boy's face crumpled as he began to sob quietly, and Heero slid onto the bed, gathering him into his arms.

"Shhh, Duo," he whispered, rubbing the braided boy's back. "Please don't cry..."

Duo curled against him, face pressed against his chest, and cried without ever waking up. By the time his silent sobs trailed off, the front of Heero's shirt was soaked.

"...thanks, 'Fei," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to Heero's collarbone and slipped into deeper sleep with his arms locked around the Japanese pilot's waist.

Heero stared down at the top of Duo's head, eyes wide. _I've hardly ever seen Duo cry. And he __**won't**__ cry if he knows he can be seen. If he's willing to cry on Wufei's chest... 'Thanks 'Fei'... this has happened before. And he __**kissed**__..._

When Trowa said Wufei _**wanted**__ to be Duo's lover... how close to the truth __**was**__ he?!_


	14. Chapter 13

"How in Krahana's hells did **that** happen?"

"Do I have to explain now, or can I get some sleep first?" Karthan growled without raising his head. "We're **tired**."

"At least tell me how you all ended up with the same wound," Uthmar insisted. "I know you weren't bleeding before Nataku scooped you up... and you and Wufei both have the same cuts, but no damage to your clothes."

Uthmar flicked a wary glance out the window. Nataku was sitting out in the square, leaning against the tree as usual, with a very strange hole in his armour. He'd gone and had a good look at it when the demon sat down. It looked as if the thick metal covering his left lower back had been wrenched apart, then half melted and pushed back into shape. The occasional flickering light or spark could be seen through the gaps where the metal didn't quite meet... and Karthan and Wufei were lying limp and exhausted on Cord's huge bed, having wounds in the exact same place bandaged.

_I said 'cuts', but that's not quite right,_ the Champion thought uncomfortably. _They've both got a webwork of bruises and blood-blisters there. It's like those spots were battered until the skin __**split**__..._

"All right," Karthan grumbled. "It's not all going to make sense, though. Don't say I didn't warn you." He rolled his head slightly to the side, looking up at Uthmar out of one eye. "If Nataku gets damaged badly enough, the same damage starts to happen to Wufei, because they're linked. Wufei can use the link to mend Nataku's damage, by using himself as a pattern, but it doesn't work properly if he's been hurt too. I got pulled into the link by accident and Wufei had to use **me** as a pattern to fix himself and Nataku. He didn't want to, but I convinced him he had to. Some of the damage transferred to me over the link, but I figure it was a fair swap; I know what broken ribs feel like, and that blob demon gave me at least three, but they're fine now. And now I'm going to go to sleep."

"Uh- you- what do you mean, you were pulled into the link?!" Uthmar sputtered, wide-eyed. "What sort of link? Is it still there?!"

"I **told** you it wasn't all going to make sense, and I'm not going to try to explain it now," Karthan said through a huge yawn. "The link's gone, so don't panic. Oh, and Nataku does think, but it's not really alive..." He trailed off, eyes closing, and began to snore. Wufei was already fast asleep.

Faced with two soundly unconscious informants, one of whom couldn't speak enough Spearman to explain anyway, Uthmar stamped off to pace and mutter at his god.

- - - - - -

Karthan dreamed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He was creeping down a white hallway, shoulders pressed to the wall as he sidled along, shooting wary glances to the left and right. There were doors in the wall opposite him, one every few paces; he was close to the right number and...

_Something's wrong._

...nobody had raised the alarm yet. He wasn't the hacker that Heero was, but he'd looped the security camera footage without any trouble. Now, if the guards would just oblige him by staying in their office and not wandering around the corridors...

_Where am I? This hallway's too white... too even. It's shiny!_

...he might be able to get Duo and get out before they knew anything was going on.

_Who's Duo?_

If this is a rescue mission, why haven't I got my axe?

Sliding to a halt at a corner, he took a deep breath, bringing his gun up in front of his face...

_What's __**that**__?! And that's __**not**__ my hand-_

...then spun around the corner, aiming down the corridor.

Nobody was there, and he took two quick steps across to the right door. His hands were trembling, but he forced himself to stop. Duo would be **fine**, OZ hadn't had him for long and he was tougher than he looked...

Sliding a knife blade behind the keypad, he wrenched it out of the wall and cut the alarm wire. The contacts shorted as he jammed the knife into the right spot, the door opened and he stepped in.

"Duo?!"

The bruised, bleeding form on the floor looked up and grinned crookedly. "Hey, Wu-man, good to see you. Never mind the mess, I'm fine. Only hurts when I exist..."

The feeling of mingled relief and fury was so strong he nearly wept.

_'Wu-man'? __**Wufei**__?_

Then they were all sitting around the breakfast table. Heero and Trowa had cereal, Quatre had tea and toast, and Duo had bacon and **doughnuts**. Ridiculous thing to eat for breakfast, really...

_This has to be a dream. But why am I dreaming about being Wufei?!_

...but he was still bandaged up from the last mission, so they'd let him get away with it.

"You're going to get fat, sooner or later, Maxwell," he said bluntly, sitting down with a bowl of cornflakes.

"Yeah, right," Duo scoffed. "I've been eating like this for the last couple of years, and do I look fat to you? I don't think so."

"Of course you don't look fat," Heero muttered under his breath. "It's all in your head."

"Hmff?" the braided pilot muttered through a mouthful, frowning. "Wha- oi!"

"Took you long enough to work it out," Heero said, smirking. "Proved my point-"

Half of Duo's doughnut bounced off Heero's head and landed in his cereal, splattering milk everywhere, and breakfast dissolved into chaos.

_I think I'd like this Duo person. He and Gunnar would __**definitely**__ get along._

Chaos on the battlefield, mobile suits and explosions everywhere, Heavyarms standing on a ridge and calmly mowing down the enemy...

_**Hells**__! What- what-_

...as they attacked, but there was always more coming. Sandrock and Deathscythe were beside him, supporting each other in close combat; Wing was in the air above them...

_-four more like Nataku, and Wufei was with four friends, it makes sense. It's the only thing in this that __**does**__ make sense!_

...and the sky rained molten metal as the energy sword hacked OZ suits to pieces. Bullets rang off Nataku's armour and he spun, chopping the attacker down. He snapped brief replies to the voices on the comm, he fought and he fought well, but somehow his heart wasn't in it; although he swore at himself, he had to admit that he didn't want to be there. It was his duty to fight, but he'd rather be in space.

_...!_

Space...

_...is this how the gods see the world...?!_

...drifting peacefully, weightless. He could be calm, here. Away from everybody... he could let down the mask that only Duo had bothered to look behind, and smile just because the Earth looked so beautiful. For just a few minutes, he could relax and not think about the war.

The sun peeked around the edge of the world below, and a sparkle in the distance caught his eye as the cluster of colonies at L4 reflected the light. Automatically, he estimated where the L5 colony should be and turned his head in that direction; he knew they wouldn't be visible, of course, they were still in the planet's shadow-

One bright spark became a massive explosion as his home colony disintegrated in flames.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Karthan woke up screaming.

* * * * *

The bonfires in the fields were finally dying down, stinking ashes swirling into the air and drifting across the village on the light breeze. One by one, the torchbugs in the trees to the south were lighting up again.

"One day," Uthmar growled into his beard, pacing up and down outside Cord's hut. "All this has happened in just **one** day! Two demons who aren't evil, one that **was** - Gods, that was disgusting - there's probably a whole damn temple **full** of Sharna's cultists and dog brothers to the south, and here I am with just six men! And one of 'em's managed to get himself **linked** to one of the damn demons, and I don't **care** if the link's gone now, I don't **care** if the demon's a good man and 'has style', the whole thing still makes me twitch!"

_=*I noticed,*=_ Torframos said dryly.

"Not to mention that my god's sense of humour is getting more annoying by the minute-"

_=*Sorry.*=_

"-and he seems to be developing a callous streak," Uthmar snarled quietly, glaring upwards.

_=*I am __**not**__! It was a mistake, I've admitted it, and it won't happen again. Now stop it!*=_ Torframos snapped. _=*You've had a very bad day and it's upsetting, that's understandable, but giving yourself an ulcer won't help! Calm __**down**__!*=_

"Oh, I'm calm," Uthmar seethed. "I'm **very** calm. I'm just bloody furious, that's all!"

_=*What are you so furious about, Uthmar? You won. The forces of Light triumphed. The-*=_

"Oh, shut up. You're starting to sound like Gunnar in a sarcastic mood."

_=*Hmph. Gods have their troubles, too, you know,*=_ Torframos sniffed, and continued in syrupy tones. _=*Here I am, stuck with an unappreciative Champion, when I __**could**__ have chosen somebody who would treat it as the true honour it is. Sir Vaijon, for example. __**He**__ would be composing an ode of praise about now, not getting in a snit.*=_

Uthmar had to laugh. "Vaijon? That **twit**? He'd still be at Yithar's manor house, comparing bloodlines and jewelled sword hilts with his host."

_=*Surely you wrong Sir Vaijon! He is a __**true**__ knight.*=_

"And an Almerhas of Almerhas, as he keeps pointing out, I know," the dwarf muttered, rolling his eyes. "All right, all right, you can stop now."

_=*Pity. I was enjoying myself. What __**is**__ upsetting you? The temple is certainly a problem, but you've never let bad odds really bother you before... and reinforcements are on the way.*=_

"The temple's not really a problem. Gather up a big enough force, go in and clean it out... that's easy enough. It'll be messy, and we'll take casualties, but it's **simple**. What's bothering me is the things where either I can't do anything, or I don't know what I **should** do! Like Wufei and Nataku. My gut feeling is that they're allies. I want to trust them. But I don't **know** that I can trust them, and I have to be sure! And now there's this 'link' thing... even if it **is** gone, what sort of effect has it had on Karthan? How do I find out? And-"

A horrified cry from Cord's hut cut him off, and he bolted for the door.

* * * * *

It seemed to Duo that he'd been scanned, poked and prodded by every diagnostic machine known to man, and it was only 10 a.m. Now, he was lying on an examination table, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, freezing his goosebumps off in the airconditioning, while he waited for Sally to come back and tell him his knee would be fine and he could leave.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Duo hadn't spoken unless he had to during all the tests; maybe he **did** have to have them done, even if it was only to shut Sally and the other pilots up, but he didn't have to like it and he was damn well going to sulk if he wanted to. Heero had been quiet, too, watching him with an odd, questioning expression. Trowa was being Trowa, which meant that since he hadn't had anything important to say, he hadn't said anything. That left Quatre to fill the conversational void with encouraging chatter and comments, and even he had given up.

"Quatre?" Heero said abruptly, standing up and reaching for Duo's long coat. "Could you go and find a blanket or something? Duo's cold." He draped the coat carefully over Duo and rubbed his arms through the fabric, raising a little warmth.

"Thanks," Duo muttered as Quatre ducked out into the hall. "This is one of the reasons why I **hate** hospitals. They always have the airconditioning cranked up like it's summer at the Equator outside."

"I think the temperature has something to do with the air purification systems they use," Trowa offered. "Maybe they should reheat it before it gets circulated."

"Shit, yeah..."

Quatre bustled back in with a couple of cotton blankets, followed by Sally Po and a tall, thin, black-haired doctor. "You need blankets?" he asked, blinking dark eyes behind his glasses. "There are supposed to be blankets already on the shelf... oh, I see there are not. Most regrettable. The temperature in here is such that blankets are definitely needed if you are sitting around half naked for any length of time. I see that you avoided that instrument of psychological torture known as the patient gown, however; well done! You must tell me how you managed that, the nurses are really **quite** insistent..."

"Duo Maxwell, this is Doctor Modi, one of the top orthopaedic surgeons in the Earthsphere," Sally said politely as Duo sat up. "He'll be performing the surgery on your knee."

The bottom seemed to plummet out of Duo's stomach. "**Surgery**? **What** surgery? Come **on**, Sally, I just twisted it!"

"Perhaps that **is** all you did, Duo - may I call you Duo?" Dr. Modi said, setting his laptop down on a small wheeled table and moving it over next to his patient. "You managed to twist it in a singularly nasty way, however; not only did you tear your anterior cruciate ligament, you also ripped the meniscus. To do that, you must have popped your patella right around to the other side of your knee for a moment. I understand you fell off a ladder, and then again on some stairs?"

"Yeah, but- I don't really need surgery, do I? How long will it take to get better if I don't have the surgery?"

"It won't," Modi calmly replied, peering over his glasses. "You really - ah - 'did a number on it'. The anterior cruciate ligament, also called the ACL, is quite important; it holds your knee joint in alignment and helps to keep your patella - the kneecap - in place. Without it, your knee will be massively weakened, it will have a nasty tendency to bend sideways at inconvenient moments, and your patella will move out of place and wear away at the other bones. If we do the surgery, however, you will be able to return to your normal range of activities within... hmmm... perhaps as little as four months. Wearing a knee brace, of course," he added, "but that, too, will be temporary."

Duo paled slightly, then swallowed. "Well... shit," he muttered.

"What does this surgery entail, exactly?" Heero asked tersely, one hand going out to cover Duo's.

"First, I should like to point out that this is quite a common surgery," Modi said, pecking at his laptop's keyboard and peering at the results onscreen. "Athletes do this sort of thing to themselves all the time and all the - er - 'bugs' were worked out of the operation a long time ago. What we do to fix it hasn't changed since Before Colony days, but we've refined the details of **how** we do it. Ah, here we are," he said happily, turning the laptop around so that the pilots could see.

"This is a three-dimensional image of your right knee that we've produced from the scan data," he continued, pulling a pen from his pocket and waving it at the screen. "The ACL goes from the left side of your tibia, here, and runs up and across to the right side of your femur, about a third of the way up, here. At least, it's supposed to. We'll take a braided carbon fibre replacement and fuse it to the bones in the proper places, like **this**." A tap on the keys produced a short animated sequence. "We'll clean up the torn meniscus while we're in there, fuse it together... that part will heal in no time. They used to fix this sort of injury by taking a piece from another ligament and **screwing** it to the bones, a rather alarming idea, but we've gone beyond that now. We'll use a couple of different treatments to stimulate healing, and you'll actually end up growing a new tendon through the carbon fibre matrix. Eventually, your body will absorb the carbon fibre and it'll be all you in there. Any questions?"

Duo swallowed again. "How long am I going to have to be in the hospital?"

"It's really up to you," Modi replied. "If there are no complications - and they aren't likely - we'll let you out as soon as you can bend your leg 90 degrees by yourself. Without using your hands, I should point out, since we've had patients try to cheat... um, that should be less than a week."

"What about after that?" Heero asked, squeezing Duo's hand as the braided teen relaxed slightly.

"Well, after you prove that you can bend your leg, we put you into an immobilising brace so you **can't**," Modi said sheepishly, still talking to Duo. "Sounds silly, I know, but it's the right thing to do. You go home and clump around on crutches like that for about a week or ten days. Then we unlock the brace and bend your leg again, which is **really** going to hurt, I'm afraid, and start you in physical therapy. If that goes well, you should be able to switch to a smaller brace after three months or so; another month or two later, and you'll only have to wear the brace if you're going to play sports or spend the day on your feet. At that point, physical therapy stops, and eventually, you'll be able to throw the brace away for good. 'Eventually' usually means 'about a year after you stop therapy', but it depends on a lot of factors. If you get lazy, or push yourself too hard too soon, you'll set yourself back."

"Pay attention, Duo," Sally said dryly. "You can't approach this the way you've handled every other injury in your life. If you try to act like you're not hurt, or speed up your therapy, you **won't** get better faster. This time, it doesn't work that way."

"I have a reasonably light caseload at the moment," Dr. Modi muttered, tapping at his laptop again. "I can fit you in... um... three days from now. How's that?"

Duo flopped back on the examination table and sighed. "Okay. If I've got to do this, sooner is better."

"It doesn't take very long," Modi said encouragingly, "and it's usually done with just a local anaesthetic-"

"**Bad** idea-" "No-" "That won't work-" Sally, Heero and Quatre closed their mouths and looked at each other.

"Oh," Modi blinked, confused. "Is there a problem?"

Trowa cleared his throat. "While we're sure Duo **would** stay still for the operation, he **really** doesn't like hospitals. He wouldn't enjoy it. Right, Duo?"

"I could handle it," Duo growled.

"Yes, but you don't **have** to," Sally pointed out. "And you'd be wound tighter than a violin string. I don't think you need the extra stress."

"Whatever," Duo snapped. "Why don't you guys plan my life, make all the arrangements, and just tell me when and where to show up?"

Quatre leaned over and lightly zotted Duo on the top of his head. "Knock it off," he advised, affectionately. "It's your decision. If you want to be awake for it, then you'll be awake, but don't expect us to keep our mouths shut if we think you'd be happier or better off doing something else. You speak up fast enough when you think **we're** doing the wrong thing."

"Duo, maybe being out **would** be the best thing," Heero said under his breath. "With your reflexes..."

Duo's eyes widened slightly as he considered what could happen if the local anaesthetic didn't quite work properly. If he felt an unexpected twinge of pain while he was stressed and reacted... "Good point," he muttered. "Sorry, guys."

"I will book you in for general anaesthetic, then, hmm?" Modi said, hitting keys. "If you come in at 7 a.m. we can get you prepped and into surgery by ten-thirty. You know not to eat for twenty-four hours, yes? No drinks after midnight. And no walking on that leg, use crutches if you must get around. As for the paperwork, we can take care of that today."

"Paperwork?" Duo asked.

"Yes, a basic medical history and payment arrangements."

"Oh, that's easy," Quatre said, glad to have something he could do. "I'll pay."

Heero glared. "**I'll** pay."

Duo sighed. "Gimme the paperwork, okay?" he asked Modi. "This could take a while..."

- - - - - -

Twenty minutes later, Heero and Quatre exchanged one last glare.

"Half each then?"

"Hn." Heero nodded.

"Too late," Trowa said calmly. "We got tired of waiting. Duo's paying."

"Yeah," Duo said sourly, struggling into his jeans. "It's **my** knee, after all... and neither of you asked if I **wanted** you to pay. It's not like I'm hard up for money, you know."

"But Duo, it's really no problem... I want to-" Quatre stated.

"I'm sorry."

Dr. Modi kept tapping away at his computer, oblivious, but everyone else turned to stare at Heero.

"...what did you say?" Duo asked, blinking.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it for granted. I'll ask next time," Heero said seriously.

Slowly getting over his shock - _Heero __**never**__ apologises to __**anybody**_ - Duo ducked his head, pretending to concentrate on pulling his jeans over the wrapping on his knee without disarranging it. "Hopefully, there won't **be** a next time," he muttered. "I'm certainly not planning to pop my ligaments very often, or anything like that."

Heero shrugged, looking away. "The next time something comes up that I should ask you about, then."

Sally was covering an amused, speculative smile with one hand as she looked back and forth between them, obviously forming her own conclusions. Only Quatre's long practice at staying politely unreadable during business negotiations was keeping his jaw from dropping, and Trowa wore a faint smirk as he picked up Duo's coat and held it for him to put on.

* * * * *

Karthan was sitting up at one end of the huge cupboard-bed, clutching at his chest and gasping for air, when Uthmar burst in.

"What is it?! What happened?!"

"They all died," Karthan said dazedly, staring straight ahead at nothing. "All of them, down to the youngest child... and they did it themselves! He's all alone..."

"Karthan? Karthan! Snap out of it!" Uthmar waved a hand in front of the other dwarf's staring eyes, and was vastly relieved when Karthan blinked and shook himself, seeming to come back to his senses.

"What's after being the problem, man?" Cord rumbled, standing next to his improvised pallet on the floor. There was a spare bed, a cot they'd brought in for Wufei to use, but neither Cord nor Naiya came close to fitting in it, so they'd offered it to Uthmar... for whenever he finally got around to going to bed. "I thought you two were fast asleep- hey, now, will you look at that? He hasn't even twitched; I didn't think the lad was **that** tired..."

"He was dreaming," Karthan said, scrubbing roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand. "I was in there with him, and I saw-" He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, concentrating, then shuddered and opened them again. "Wake him up, Cord," he said urgently. "He's still dreaming, and it's getting nastier."

Cord looked dubiously at the small demon, sleeping at the other end of the bed. He was lying limp and still, one hand open next to his head; then, the hand twitched, and he winced slightly, breath stuttering.

"Well, he doesn't look too peaceful," the giant hradani muttered, and reached out a hand towards Wufei's shoulder. "Wufei! Wake up, now, you're worritin' Karthan-"

Wufei gasped and jerked, opening his eyes, but it was obvious that he wasn't really awake; they were glassy and unseeing, looking straight through Cord. He muttered something incomprehensible in his own language, then relaxed, eyes closing as he slipped away again.

"I wonder what he said?" Uthmar whispered, half to himself.

"'They can't be dead'," Karthan translated, rubbing his forehead. "'They wouldn't die without finishing it.'" He sighed, dropping his hand, and smiled wryly at the Champion. "My apologies for the trouble this is probably going to cause, sir. It looks like I spoke too soon when I said the link was gone."

- - - - - -

A little later, the four of them were gathered at the table- Uthmar, Karthan, Cord and Naiya. The two dwarves looked a little ridiculous, propped up on cushions with their shoulders barely clearing the table top, but they weren't about to let it bother them.

"Are you sure you're up to discussing this now?" Naiya asked worriedly, passing around mugs of herbal tea. "You're looking livelier than you did earlier, but..."

"I'm not tired any more," Karthan assured her, looking faintly surprised. "I mean, I'm tired, but I'm not **exhausted**."

"That's good, because this explanation **can't** wait until morning any more," Uthmar growled. "What's going on?"

"I wish I knew," Karthan sighed, glancing back over his shoulder at Wufei's sleeping form. "I can tell you what it seems like to me, but I **know** I don't really understand it."

"I can't be worse informed than I am right now," the Champion pointed out dryly. "Any information will be an improvement."

"Right. Well... what happened just now... I was sharing Wufei's dream. I honestly thought the link just fell apart once the fight was over. I couldn't **feel** him and Nataku any more, and we couldn't understand each other, either, but I guess it was just... um... closed, but not cut. And when we both went to sleep, it opened up again. He was dreaming about the people he fought alongside in his homeworld, and their... uh... 'Gun-dams', that was the word. It was weird; I saw the dream from **his** point of view, and I could feel what **he** felt about what was happening. I got some of what he knew about the people and things in the dream, too. Nobody said 'Gundam' in his dream, and he didn't even think it, but he knew that was the right word so now I know it, too."

"'Gundams'," Naiya said slowly, as if she was tasting the strange word. "Does that mean demons like Nataku?"

"Yes-"

"Wait here," she said abruptly, getting up and walking into the back storage room. She was back in seconds, clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle that opened to reveal a flat wooden box and a book. "Is this them?" she asked, opening the book and leafing through the pages, then pointing.

"Yes!" Karthan exclaimed, leaning forward. "That's Heero and Wing." Turning over the next few pages, he continued. "Duo and Shinigami... Trowa and Heavyarms... Quatre and Sandrock..." He turned over the next page, and almost choked.

"That's Meiran," he said slowly. "She wasn't in the dream, but... that's Meiran. Chang Meiran. She... she died." He looked up at the others, eyes wide. "She died in a field of flowers, and **she** was called Nataku first."


	15. Chapter 14

"**She** was called Nataku?" Uthmar asked, looking at the picture of Meiran with a puzzled frown.

Karthan nodded. "I don't know why, but that's what I got when I saw the drawing. This is like... like remembering things, only they're not there until I remember them, and then it's as if I knew them all along," he said, rubbing at his forehead. "I keep thinking that I should get a headache, but it never turns up."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Uthmar muttered, carefully turning over a few more pages. "You said you can feel what Wufei feels about things?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I have a very important question for you." The Champion closed the book of pictures and leaned forwards slightly, hands clasped on the table in front of him. "How does he feel about **us**?"

"I don't know, yet," Karthan replied. "He only dreamt about his home and the people there."

"But you were linked to him during the fight!" Uthmar protested. "He must have been thinking about things here then!"

"Yes, but the link was different them!" Karthan blinked, thinking about what he'd just said, and nodded. "It **was** different," he said slowly. "I didn't feel as if I was inside his thoughts; it was like we were talking to each other, and I only got a couple of flashes of emotion. Maybe because he was awake, and it was at least partly under his control?"

"'Partly'?"

Karthan half-grinned. "He did **not** intend to pull me in with him. That was one of the times I felt emotion; he was definitely startled when I turned up. And while he was fixing Nataku, I think he was working at least half by guess. He told me, 'I've never done this before, but I seem to know what to do'."

"But he **must** have done it before," Naiya protested. "If that's how he mends Nataku's wounds-"

"He used to have some other way of doing that," Karthan insisted firmly. "He **must** have, because he didn't have a link to Nataku when he was in his own world. I got that much from the dream, at least. He was a **little** faster than most people, a **little** stronger, and more skilled. That's all. His strength, the link, and the ability to hit people who are out of arm's reach are all new."

"You're saying he wasn't much more than a human, then," Cord said quietly. "Is that it?"

"I'm saying he **was** human."

Nobody could think of anything to say in reply to that.

* * * * *

"So essentially, you're telling me that you can't find anything definite?"

"No, miss," the quiet man said, standing with his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He looked like a minor clerk or shop assistant, perhaps working in a bank or a men's store... not like a private investigator, which he was. "Matters are naturally complicated by the war. Most of the persons I've found who seem to recognise the name or description are OZ personnel. Ex-OZ now, I suppose." He smiled thinly. "Frankly, you're more likely to be able to access their records than I or my associates."

"I'm not particularly interested in what he may or may not have done during the war," Relena informed him. _Heero surely knows most of it already,_ she thought. _The only thing that might drive him and Duo apart would be finding out that Duo was an OZ agent, and I know perfectly well that he wasn't!_

If necessary, evidence could be manufactured...

"I want to find out his history **before** the war," she said quickly, pushing the unwelcome thought away. "What was he doing? Who was he associating with? Was he in trouble with the authorities?"

The man raised an eyebrow and smiled again. "He's from L2, miss, and not rich, you said? Then he was almost certainly in trouble, whether he deserved it or not."

"Find out what **sort** of trouble, then."

"Certainly, miss," he said calmly. "I'll need to go to L2, but I'll keep in touch. Do you have a photograph? So far I've been questioning people whose memories are relatively fresh, but if I'm to dig deeper into the past a picture is better than a description."

"Of course," she nodded, rising and going to the door. "Wait here a moment, please."

Upstairs, in her bedroom, she unearthed a handful of photographs from underneath the false bottom in her jewelry case. They were all of Heero, taken at different times when he had been off guard; she didn't **think** he knew any of them existed... There was one of him and Duo together, in casual clothes, leaning back against a railing. It wasn't actually a good picture of Heero - she'd only kept it because she had so few - but it was a **very** good picture of Duo.

She held it up for a moment, looking at them; then she picked up a pair of scissors and cut them apart.

_Heero and __**me**__._

* * * * *

"Doctor Modi said you weren't to put any weight on that leg, so you have to stay in bed," Heero informed Duo as he carried him upstairs. "I'll bring the TV upstairs for you. If you need anything else, tell us and we'll get it. You're **definitely** not allowed to go up and down the stairs, so I'll bring your meals up, too."

"Do I at least get to go to the bathroom, or have you stolen a bedpan from the hospital?" Duo inquired through clenched teeth, fuming. _He's planning my life again, damn it!_

"I'll carry you there," Heero said flatly, toeing the door to Wufei's room open and sidling through, careful not to bang Duo's feet against the doorjamb. Belatedly, the tone of the question got through to him and he looked down at Duo's face. The braided boy was staring straight ahead, face **almost** blank... but his mouth was pressed firmly shut and the muscles along his jaw were tense.

"...Please, Duo?" Heero added weakly. "I'm worried about you. **Please** don't do anything that might make your leg worse. I'm... I'm sorry if it came out sounding like an order. I'm no good at asking nicely, especially when it's something important. You've already been hurt because I was an idiot, I really don't want to risk anything else happening to you..."

"Put me down."

Flushing slightly, Heero got Duo settled in the bed and stepped back.

"Damn right you're no good at asking nicely," Duo said acidly, glaring at an innocent spot on the wall. "After all, that takes **practice**."

Heero winced. "Uh... do you want anything? I'll get it-"

"I **want** my knee to be fine," Duo snapped. "I **want** to not have to go the hospital. I **want** Wufei back safe and sound. Can you get me those things?"

"...No," Heero whispered.

"Then I don't want anything. Leave me alone," Duo muttered, turning away and pulling the blankets up.

- - - - - -

Trowa spoke up from behind Heero as he quietly closed the door. "He's just indulging in a shit fit. Considering what's been happening, one thing on top of another, it's understandable. Give him an hour or so and he'll be sorry."

"I don't **want** him to be sorry," Heero said softly, not turning around.

"It won't last," Trowa replied, a faint smile colouring his voice. "And it's better than having him try to snap your head off. Why don't you get out for a break? Go shopping, or something. We're running low on a few supplies."

Heero shrugged, one hand waving as to dismiss the idea; but he walked downstairs and went into the kitchen. Listening, Trowa heard cupboards open and shut, and a few minutes later the old van they'd been using for supply runs started up and pulled away.

- - - - - -

Duo lay in bed, seething. Frustration and anger were clashing with guilt, grief and regret, and the confusion was just making him madder. _Serves him right. He's been a bastard to me often enough. It's about time he got some of his own back! Trying to run my life, ordering me around like I can't be trusted to do the right thing-_

He did say he was sorry.

Like it means anything to him! It's probably just another way of getting what he wants. A new technique, 'Nice Heero'.

I still shouldn't have said that to him.

Well, he shouldn't have said the things _**he**__ said to __**me**__. Payback._

... but payback isn't always _**fair**__._

The door opened quietly and Duo stiffened. "I said, leave me **alone**!" he snarled, voice tight.

"Looks like you've got your own back for the way he was talking to you last week," Trowa said calmly. "He looked worse than you did when he came out of the room."

There wasn't anything in his tone or wording to indicate that he didn't approve, but Duo still felt as if he'd been reproached. "Well, it's fair enough, isn't it?" he snapped, lunging upright and glaring. "Even when he **says** he's trying to be nice, all he does is order me around. It's **his** fault I've gotta have surgery anyway, where does he get off telling me to look after myself? He ignores me and treats me like dirt all this time, then all of the sudden when I've given up he's suddenly in love with me so I've got to start hoping again. And he has the nerve to look like a kicked puppy when I- when-"

Duo abruptly burst into tears.

"I didn't mean to hurt him that badly," he sobbed, tears running down his face. "I was mad, but I didn't mean- and he **is** trying- and I'm not even sure how I feel myself. I can't get it all straight in my head! I wish Wufei was here. I want him **back**! I could always talk to him, even if he couldn't give me advice, it helped me sort things out. I **can't** talk to Quatre about this, he's part of the problem. And that's **another** thing!" he wailed, scrubbing ineffectually at his face with the back of his hand. "I'm starting to feel like the prize in a tug-of-war, here! Quatre and Heero are glaring at each other like- like- like a couple of jealous **boyfriends**! **You're** in it too," he sniffed, waving one hand at Trowa, "but at least you don't seem to be going over the top..."

"It wouldn't help, would it?" Trowa said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt Duo tense as he put an arm around his shoulders, and carefully didn't put any pressure into the embrace. "I'm not going to push anything. I don't think it would be fair. You've got to have a chance to make up your own mind. I wouldn't exactly object if you decided you wanted us instead of Heero," he added dryly, gently pulling Duo against him as he felt the braided teen relax, "but I don't want you to choose in a hurry and regret it later."

"I do still love Heero," Duo sighed, leaning against Trowa's shoulder, "but I'm pissed off at him too, and I'm not sure which is more important. I've got him if I want him... but I had to lose Wufei to get him, and that **hurts**! I didn't warn him in time. I yelled, but he didn't have time to dodge or- or anything..." His voice dropped until Trowa almost couldn't hear him. "Maybe it's my fault he's gone."

"That's a **really** stupid thing to say," Trowa said acidly, tightening his grip and shaking Duo slightly. "If it's anyone's fault, it's OZ's for playing around with a dimensional cannon. You can't be responsible for everything and everyone!"

"It's a very Catholic attitude," Duo said with a shaky laugh. "Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa..."

"Is it a Muslim attitude, too? You once said you thought Quatre would eventually blame himself for the lack of air in outer space, after all... and last night he muttered something about 'maybe it would have missed Wing if I hadn't said anything about it'. Then there's the fact that **I** was going to go after that thing, but Wufei went in my place. Do you think I haven't thought about that?"

"It wasn't your fault!" Duo protested automatically, then hesitated.

"You see?" Trowa said gently. "If you won't blame us, you **can't** blame yourself."

"Sure I can," Duo said without much conviction. "It's **another** very Catholic attitude."

"You've got a lot of things to be upset about," Trowa pointed out, fighting not to grin, "and a lot of confusing stuff to work out. It's only natural that you're going to get... snappish. But you might want to cut Heero a little more slack, just in case you decide to keep him."

Duo managed a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a chuckle, then sighed. "I should apologise, I guess."

"He's probably going to apologise, too. I sent him shopping-"

"And he went?"

"Yes. For some reason he thought you didn't want to see his face just then, and I suppose he figured that there wasn't much else to hang around for. Do you realise he hasn't done any work on Wing for **days**?"

"Really?"

"Really. Anyway, he went, and I doubt he'll be back for a couple of hours. Maybe you could have a nap in the meantime?"

Duo's hand tightened on a fold of Trowa's shirt, almost involuntarily. "You gonna stay?" he asked, very quietly. "I don't want to be alone, now."

"I'll stay," Trowa reassured him, shifting to lie on top of the covers next to him.

* * * * *

"Human," Uthmar said flatly. Karthan nodded. "You're saying that in Wufei's world, **humans** ride around **inside** demons, to make war?"

"Ah. That's another thing-"

"Great," Uthmar muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now **I'm** getting a headache. Go on, tell me!"

"I don't think Nataku's exactly a demon, either."

One slightly bloodshot eye popped open and glared across the table at Karthan. "You're **not** going to tell me that Nataku is human, too, are you? Because I'm warning you, I won't believe it."

Karthan grinned slightly. "No, sir, Nataku is very definitely **not** human. It's a machine."

Uthmar dropped his hand and stared incredulously at the other dwarf. To him, 'machine' meant something like the water powered mills and foundries in the dwarven cities, not something that could get up and walk around like a man. "You said he - it - You said Nataku can **think**! How can a machine **think**? And what makes it go?"

Karthan rubbed his temples, wincing slightly as the question triggered off a shower of 'memories'. A quick image of Nataku, lying on its back with half of its torso in pieces around it as a large metal object was lowered towards its socket, trailing wires as thick as rope- "There aren't any words in any of the languages I know to explain it, sir. Nataku was **built**. There's something in the body that... it's got sort of a fire in it, but it's not hot, and even a tiny burn from it could kill you. The fire gets turned into something like lightning, is collected, and somehow it makes Nataku go. And think. Little trickles of lightning through tiny bits of wire and stone..." He shook his head, blinking. "The words just won't fit! It thinks, it counts and measures and ciphers so fast it's incredible, but it's got no will or emotion of its own. If Wufei tells it to do something, it does it. That's all."

_=*It would explain why I can't feel Wufei except when he's using his powers,*=_ Torframos said abruptly in the back of Uthmar's mind, _=*if he's not much more than human at other times. And it would explain why I can't feel Nataku unless Wufei is inside. How did Wufei __**get**__ those powers, though?*=_

"Do you have any idea how Wufei got his powers?" Uthmar repeated, for Karthan's benefit.

The other dwarf blinked and seemed to concentrate for a moment; then he shook his head. "No, sir. He's got them now, and he didn't have them before. That's all I know."

"So are we to call him human, or demon, or what?" Cord asked quietly. "I'll tell you straight, it's easier to think of him as a demon, what with his looks and all."

"His companions look normal by our standards, and he didn't - doesn't - think of them as different from himself," Karthan informed him. "I think humans just come in a wider variety than we're used to, where he comes from."

"Elves and dwarves and hradani, too?" Naiya asked, sounding interested. "What about halflings? A hradani with Wufei's colouring would be an odd sight!"

"I don't think-" Karthan broke off and frowned. "I don't think there **are** any there," he said slowly. "I didn't see any non-humans in his dream... though it was mostly about his friends... and I'm not getting any memories when I think about it. Did he draw any non-humans in his book?"

"No," Naiya said, shaking her head. "There's only two pictures of people that aren't his four friends or that girl, and they're both human- though one looks nearly as big as a hradani, and the other seems as arrogant as a Purple Lord!"

Cord snorted, flicking a quick glance towards the shuttered windows and dropping his voice. "Well, with no half-elves in the world, **somebody** would have to fill their place..."

Uthmar smothered a cough behind one fist, beard twitching as he suppressed a grin. "A world of only humans, hm? Sounds monotonous."

"That's **not** the impression I'm getting, sir," Karthan said dryly.

"Well, even if he **is** human, it's probably simplest to keep calling him a demon," Uthmar sighed. "I think it'll be easier to tell people 'this one's a **good** demon', rather than trying to explain 'No, he's not a demon. He just looks weird, and has strange powers, and a **really big** suit of animated armour'..."

_=*Actually, human or not, he __**is**__ a demon,*=_ Torframos said absently.

"Huh?" Startled out of his train of thought, Uthmar squinted up at the ceiling and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's talking to Torframos," Karthan explained in a careful whisper as the two hradani looked at the Champion with surprised expressions.

"I didn't think he was trying to start a conversation with my smoked hams," Cord whispered back.

_=*'Demon' originally meant 'being from outside this world',*=_ the god explained, sounding rather preoccupied. _=*'Devil' has almost the same meaning, but implies greater power. Even a creature with no powers at all can be a demon.*=_

"Really?"

_=*Oh, yes. If Wufei had brought a- a rabbit with him, that rabbit would also be a demon. Assuming his world has rabbits, of course... and since Wufei seems to have acquired powers since he arrived here, the hypothetical rabbit might, too.*=_

Uthmar covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. "Demon rabbits," he said despairingly. "Vorpal bunnies... this is ridiculous!"

Cord nearly spat the last mouthful of his tea across the table as he choked. "Demon rabbits?!" he sputtered, mopping his face with a sleeve as Naiya snatched Wufei's sketchbook out of harm's way. "What are you on about, man?!"

"It was just an example Torframos gave me," Uthmar said hastily. "**Any** creature from another world is a demon in **this** world."

"So... demon rabbits?"

"If someone brought one here, yes," Uthmar sighed, glaring briefly upward. "It sounds silly, I know."

Cord snorted. "It does, aye! Brings to mind a wee fluffy cottontail with great big fangs, rippin' unsuspecting men's throats out. I think I'd rather have big green wailing blobs, thank ye kindly! You **expect** things like that to be dangerous."

"On that note, I think it's time to go to bed," the Champion said firmly, rubbing his forehead, "before this conversation gets any sillier. Unless you can think of anything useful to add?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at Karthan.

"I don't think so, sir," Karthan said, frowning slightly. "Except... no, it's gone."

"Hmm?"

"Every time someone says 'Nataku', something niggles at me," the dwarf said, frown deepening. "I'm not sure..."

"Nataku the big metal machine, or Nataku the girl? Chang Meh-ran?" Naiya asked, stumbling over the name.

"Both, but mostly the girl. Nataku. Nataku... oh!" Karthan smiled, brightening as light dawned. "That's it!"

"What?!"

"'Nataku' means 'justice'," he said, looking hopefully at Uthmar. "That's good... isn't it?"

* * * * *

As the next day dawned, the villagers were out at first light, looking glumly at the ruin the battle had made of their few remaining grainfields. Although the fight had started in the already burnt sections, it hadn't stayed there; sections of other fields had been flattened or torn up, Nataku's flamethrower had started a small fire, and the bonfires built to destroy the demon's remains had touched off another.

"I don't think I'd feel happy eating what's left, either," Royce said with a sigh, kicking at the ground. Stinking black ashes fluttered away on the breeze. "Bits of that damned thing **melted** everywhere, and the ashes are all over the place. What if it's poisonous? I think we should get the fields blessed, and not replant until after Chemalka's sent us a couple of good hard rains."

"At this time of year?" Derrin grumbled. "It's not going to rain until winter starts, and that means winter wheat's the only crop we'll get. Don't mistake me, I agree with you that it's the best thing to do... but it makes a bad situation worse."

"I know." Royce sighed again, looking around at the gathered men and women. "We're going to have to buy grain to get us through."

"Do we have enough money to buy grain and still pay the taxes at the end of the quarter?" Jarad's mother asked.

"Maybe. **If** we buy the absolute minimum, **if** we cut extra wood for sale, and **if** the hunting is good, we can just scrape through, I think," the headman replied.

"Well, if we're not going to harvest what's left of this crop, we can plough it under and let it lie as soon as the fields have been blessed," Terrin shrugged. "We can put everyone onto woodcutting instead of weeding and bird-scaring."

"It's mostly the women and children who do that anyway," Gwent protested. "They can't cut trees!"

"No, but we can set the ropes to guide the falls, trim branches off the logs, cut the brush back when it's in the way, carry water and whetstones..." Jarad's mother smiled, standing straighter. "All of that takes time away from the cutting. And a few of the bigger girls might surprise you, Gwent Richars'son! We've got two months until the end of the quarter. I say we can do it!"

Royce nodded, relaxing slightly. "That's more like it," he said approvingly. "If we just- eh? What's Manten up to?"

The tall teenager came out of the village at a flat run and made a beeline for the group of villagers. "Big trouble!" he wheezed, then went into a brief sneezing fit as dust and ashes swirled up around him. "Lord Yithar- _*ahchoo!*_- he's- _*ahchoo*_"

"Lord Yithar's **what**?"

"He's demanding next quarter's rent **now**!"

- - - - - -

"Isn't it customary to charge rent at the beginning of the quarter, Lord Yithar?" Uthmar snapped. "**Not** one month into the previous quarter!"

"According to Purple Lord law," Yithar said loftily, "I can demand payment at any time in the preceding quarter. And it's taxes, not rent! If they haven't planned ahead and can't pay, they're not the sort of workers a Purple Lord wants on his land."

_And how are they supposed to plan for a spoiled brat's whim?_ Uthmar thought angrily. _It's just a convenient way for you to kick them out, trying to salvage a scrap of pride by victimising people who can't fight back!_

"I beg leave to make partial payment, m'lord!" Royce gasped, running into the square.

"Denied!"

Royce swallowed hard, but persisted. "M'lord, by law, if we have a reasonable expectation of being able to pay the full amount by quarter's end, a partial payment **is** permitted-"

"At the discretion of the lord involved!" Yithar said, almost dancing with triumph. "**I** say, if you can't pay now, you certainly won't be able to pay later. Not with your fields like **that**! And if so, I want you all off my land **now**, so I can move in better tenants!"

"Are there no provisions in your law for Acts of Gods?" Uthmar inquired. "**That** was an Act of God if I ever saw one!"

"No," Yithar said smugly.

"Will- will you accept payment in kind, m'lord?" Royce asked desperately, clutching at straws.

"No! Money, jewelry and precious metals only," Yithar snapped. "I don't want half-cured hams and broken down nags!"

_But you'll take them anyway if the villagers have to default, won't you?_ Uthmar took a couple of steps back, out of the Lord's line of sight, and drew Gunnar to one side. "Take up a collection among the men," he whispered, pressing his money pouch into his second's hand, "and slip it to Royce when that prick isn't looking. Tell them I'll pay them back when we get to a chapterhouse and I can access my funds."

"We'll do what we can," Gunnar whispered back, "but there won't be much. We spent most of our cash provisioning for this trip in a hurry!"

"I **know**," Uthmar hissed, "but it might make the difference!"

Gunnar slipped away, and Uthmar went back to watching as the villagers bustled around, scraping together every last copper coin and earring they had. Gwent brought out the small pouch of money that he'd saved from selling his beer; women twisted their wire-thin wedding bands off and added them to the pile in front of Yithar, fighting back tears; and through it all he looked more and more smug.

"I even got ten coppers out of that yellow-haired guardsman of Yithar's," Gunnar whispered, reappearing at Uthmar's side. "We were dicing with him last night, after Yithar finally went to sleep and he could get away. He doesn't say much, but I got the impression he doesn't like his lord much... It isn't going to be enough, is it?"

"**He** doesn't think so," Uthmar growled, nodding towards the Purple Lord. "Look at his face!"

_=*If they default, you can escort them to the nearest chapterhouse,*=_ Torframos said quietly. _=* The Order will provide for them.*=_

_Yes, but they'll have lost __**everything**__!_ Uthmar flicked a glance upwards, then back to the tavern table Yithar had appropriated; he was setting up a small pair of scales to weigh the jewelry, moving with precise, finicky movements. _Their overlord may be a bastard, but this village is their __**home**__. The Order can't give them enough to set themselves up again, either; the best we can do is give them alms while they find work. They'll be split up..._

Across the square, Wufei wobbled into view in the open doorway of Cord and Naiya's house, blinking sleepily at the milling villagers; then the demon saw the pitiful pile of valuables and coins in front of Yithar, with Royce standing opposite him, twisting his cap, and frowned, eyes narrowing.

_And if he loses his temper and does Yithar in, it won't matter how much we approve,_ Uthmar thought grimly, starting to work his way around to where the human/demon was standing. _The Purple Lords will see every person in the village __**dead**__!_


	16. Chapter 15

Yawning, Karthan stretched, wincing as the cuts and bruises over his left lower back protested. Even without opening his eyes, he could tell that Wufei had woken and got up; his feet didn't bump into Wufei's when he stretched, and the link was closed again-

_-And what the heck is going on outside?_ he thought, frowning. _That doesn't sound right._

- - - - - -

Scowling, Wufei watched as Yithar slowly counted coins and weighed jewelry, and tried to understand what was going on.

_Every time he weighs something, he looks more smug and Royce looks more worried,_ he thought. _I think that's all the valuables in the village! I recognise that necklace, Rami wears it sometimes..._

Uthmar pushed through the edge of the crowd of watching villagers and hurried across to him. "Stay here," he whispered, tentatively putting a restraining hand on Wufei's arm. "You can't help."

_Well, at least I understood __**that**__!_ "What happen?" Wufei asked quietly. "What he do?"

The next sentence out of Uthmar's mouth was almost completely unintelligible, and Wufei sighed. "Not understand," he said tiredly. _Damn it, I understood Karthan perfectly while we were linked! Why couldn't that have stayed?_

There was a thump and some mild swearing as Karthan jumped down from the cupboard-bed, and Uthmar looked incredibly relieved. "Karthan! Come here and-" The rest of the sentence was lost on Wufei, except for his own name, 'Yithar' and 'explain'.

"Explain what?" Karthan asked, padding over to them; then he reached the doorway, glanced out, and blinked. "Ah. I see."

- - - - - -

"Sir Uthmar," Karthan said sweetly, "could you please explain to **me** how I'm supposed to explain quarterly rent to a demon who lacks most of the necessary vocabulary?"

"Did you have to put it like that?" Uthmar asked, wincing. "One Gunnar in the company is more than enough. Can't you use the link?"

"He's awake," Karthan said flatly, jerking one thumb at the bewildered-looking demon. "It's closed."

"Great," Uthmar muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's **so** useful."

"I thought you didn't like me having a link to Wufei at **all**, let alone an open one."

"I don't," the Champion snapped, keeping his voice down, "but you've got it, and I don't know any way of closing it short of killing one of you, which I **don't** intend to do. Since we're stuck with it-"

"Nice use of 'we' there, sir," Karthan said sourly.

"-it might as well be useful," Uthmar finished. "Can't you at least **try**? If Wufei doesn't understand the situation, and this goes as badly as I think it could, he might do something we'll all end up regretting."

"Like killing Lord Yithar and getting the rest of the Purple Lords **really** angry, I suppose?" the shorter dwarf muttered, glancing a little nervously from Wufei's face to the scene outside. "I'll try. I don't know whether it'll do any good, but I'll try."

Taking a deep breath, he carefully put one hand on Wufei's arm and concentrated, 'feeling' for the link. _It's a bit like feeling for a sore tooth with your tongue,_ he mused, eyes narrowing as his attention turned inwards. _You can't see anything, but you've got an idea of where it is..._ "You might want to step back, sir," he said quietly to Uthmar. "If the power jumps out at me the way it did yesterday, it could pull you into the link too."

"Ah. Er. How far back?"

Karthan didn't answer. "Wufei?" he said, trying to project the words with his mind as well as his voice. "Wufei, can you understand me? Can you open the link?"

- - - - - -

"Not understand... word," Wufei said slowly, puzzled. "Open what?"

Karthan said something else, one hand going up to touch his forehead and gesture towards Wufei's, and something whispered in the back of the pilot's mind without him realising he'd heard it.

_...link..._

Frowning, he shook his head. "Shut. Gone."

"Not gone," the dwarf insisted, then closed his eyes and scowled in concentration.

_...dreams..._

...last night...

I shared your dreams last night, Karthan's voice said, suddenly clear and recognisable. _You had a nightmare. I saw it. Your home died in a burst of fire. You were floating so high that the world looked like a ball-_

Gasping, Wufei jerked away and the voice cut off.

"Ow," Karthan muttered, opening his eyes. "You heard me?"

"Yes," Wufei said quietly, swallowing. "I heard." Slowly, he held his hand out to Karthan. "Try again?"

- - - - - -

Uthmar combed his fingers nervously through his beard as he switched his gaze back and forth from Yithar, still weighing jewelry with insulting care, to Wufei and Karthan, standing perfectly still with their eyes closed, clasping each other's wrists.

_When he finishes, I need to be over there to head him off in case he calls their inability to pay 'treason',_ the Champion thought, looking back at Yithar. _He's nearly finished... but I need to be __**here**__, too, to keep an eye on these two-_

There was a faint crackling noise as white energy sparked around Wufei's hands where they held Karthan, and the dwarf jerked slightly.

"He's got the idea," he said a little muzzily, opening unfocussed eyes. "That was quick... He wants to know what's so bad about rent, though. Why are the villagers so scared? I'd like to know myself..."

"The Purple Lords apparently don't call it rent," Uthmar explained in an undertone, sidling closer. "They call it tax. If you default on rent you get evicted, but you keep your property. If you default on tax it's treason; the Lord can confiscate all your goods and then have you executed-"

Wufei dropped Karthan's wrists and stalked off towards Nataku, glowering.

"**Great** explanation, sir," Karthan said, wobbling over to lean on the doorpost.

"Krahana's **hells**- did you at least tell him he shouldn't kill Yithar?!" Uthmar somehow managed to keep his voice down to a sort of strangled squeak. "What's he **doing**?!"

"That was the first thing I told him," Karthan said, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn't holding on to the wall. "Well, I didn't exactly **tell** him... he sort of lifted everything I wanted him to know out of my mind in a lump. He's gone to get something, I don't know what. I was concentrating on telling him something, not finding things out!"

"Is the link-"

"**Yes**, it's still open, but it's..." He waved a hand vaguely near his temple, blinking. "It's just **there** at the moment, it's not actually doing anything. I keep seeing faint shadows of what Wufei is seeing, which is **extremely** distracting, but I can't tell what he's thinking. We're not... touching right now."

As Uthmar turned away from him to follow Wufei with his eyes, Karthan firmly closed his mouth and did **not** say that although he wasn't touching Wufei's mind, somehow he was sure the small demon was still touching **his**.

- - - - - -

Yithar noted the weight of the last piece of pathetically crude jewelry- tawdry stuff, the lot of it; nothing more valuable than a moonstone- calculated the price of the metal, added a rough estimate of the gem value, and wrote the total down at the bottom of his list of figures. As his pen travelled slowly down the columns, adding up, he could feel a bubble of vindictive pleasure swelling in his heart. It wasn't going to be enough. It wouldn't have been enough even if he hadn't been keeping his estimates low...

"You're **short**," he said acidly, laying his pen aside and looking up at the pale headman. "Eighteen silver, twelve copper **short**."

_And the really wonderful thing,_ he thought gleefully, _is that by Purple Lord law, this is perfectly legal. They've defaulted on their taxes, and their lives and property are now mine to dispose of as I see fit. There's nothing that peasant-stock 'Champion' can do to stop me, and if those filthy demons try to interfere, he has to __**protect**__ me!_

"M-m'lord Yithar," Royce stammered, "if- if you would grant us a little more time, or accept partial payment until quarter's end, I'm sure-"

"**I'm** sure you'd default **again**," Yithar sneered, "and I'd have lost two months in which I could have had **productive** tenants on my land. Denied! I want you all out of here by noon, leaving everything behind. No carts, no bundles, nothing in your **pockets**," he hissed, picking up the bag Gwent's ale money had been in and reaching to sweep the jumbled pile of coins and trinkets into it. "Be thankful I'm not going to report your treason to Bortalik and call soldiers in to execute-"

A golden-skinned hand contemptuously slapped his away from the pile, and he looked up into cold black eyes.

The half-elf leapt back from the table with a strangled yelp, nearly tripping over his overturned chair. "Champion!" he screeched, voice cracking as he looked around frantically. "Uthmar! **Dwarf**! Get this- this **thing** away from me!" Another yelp escaped him as he saw Wufei calmly piling the village taxes into the bag. "That's **mine**! Thief! Give that- make him give that back!"

"Sir, **no**," Royce said desperately, pushing the bag away as Wufei turned and held it out to him. "Please, **don't**- you'll only make things worse!"

Ignoring his protests, Wufei simply dropped the bag at his feet, pulling a small paper-covered cylinder out of his pocket as he turned back to the table. Ripping the paper away from one end, he poured a stream of glittering coins onto the table, then flicked the paper away and folded his arms, staring challengingly at Yithar.

"I think you will find that this is more than enough," he said, in perfect, unaccented Spearman.

* * * * *

Sitting in the lounge room with a drink and a book, Quatre looked up as he heard the van pull in. For a moment, he was tempted to just stay where he was and ignore Heero's return, but then he sighed and set the book aside.

_If I don't warn him, he might go upstairs to check on Duo, or apologise, and walk in to find Trowa with him,_ he thought, walking towards the front of the house. _He'd __**definitely**__ get the wrong idea. I don't particularly mind upsetting Heero, but it would also upset Duo... so, it's not going to happen._

Pushing open the front door, the blond paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the large-ish box in the back of the van, surrounded by shopping bags. Heero glanced quickly in his direction as he hauled a load of bags out of the van, then dropped his gaze and hunched his shoulders, continuing towards the door with grim determination.

_He looks like he expects me to kick him,_ Quatre thought, mildly surprised. _Have I been __**that**__ nasty lately?_ Casting his mind back over the last few days, he blinked, a faint smirk twitching one corner of his mouth upwards. _I suppose I have. Ah well... all in a good cause!_

"Welcome back," he said calmly, passing Heero on his way to the van.

When the Japanese pilot came out of the house for another load, Quatre was standing by the van's tailgate, hands full of bags, gazing bemusedly at the box.

"You bought a bar fridge?"

Heero shrugged, not looking at him. "Easier for Duo than trying to get down the stairs or calling us."

"Looks like you bought a lot of things to go in it, too," Quatre continued, looking at the rest of the shopping.

"That's the whole idea," Heero pointed out shortly, grabbing another load of bags and turning back to the house. Quatre followed.

"You might as well leave the fridge in the van for now; you won't be able to put it in Duo's room for a while."

There was a slight hitch in Heero's stride. "...Is he still mad at me?" he asked very quietly.

"No. He's asleep. Trowa got him calmed down." Quatre eyed the shifting muscles in Heero's back, then took pity on him. "I don't think he was really mad at you to start with... just stressed and upset."

"He'd be less stressed if you'd stop telling him Wufei's dead," Heero growled, dumping the bags on the kitchen floor and turning to glare at the blond.

Quatre controlled his temper with an effort. "I **have** stopped," he said coldly. "I stopped when the Doctors contacted us and told us what happened to him. Did you really think I was going to keep upsetting Duo by trying to convince him of something **I** don't believe any more?"

"...No. No, I don't think you'd do that," Heero muttered, looking away. His jaw worked for a moment, then he almost spat out "Sorry."

_Two apologies in one day, and one of them to __**me**__? Maybe Trowa's right, and he __**is**__ making an effort..._ "Ahfwan[1]," Quatre said quietly. "That's okay. If I'm going to make allowances for Duo because he's stressed, I suppose I should give you some slack, too... but not much," he added sourly, dropping his bags and going out for more.

They unpacked and put away the rest of the groceries in silence. Afterwards, Quatre came out of the kitchen on his way back to his book, and almost bumped into Heero at the bottom of the stairs, looking up uncertainly.

"Go on," Quatre said sharply. "Go up! Just, for Allah's sake, be **quiet**! If the alternative is to have you standing around looking like the bottom's dropped out of your world..." Muttering, he stalked off towards the lounge.

- - - - - -

Trowa opened his eyes as he heard the floor creak quietly in the hall, and was watching the door when Heero looked in. Heero paled slightly and stepped back when he saw Duo sleeping on Trowa's shoulder, hands firmly knotted into the taller pilot's shirt, but Trowa waved 'come in' and lifted a finger to his lips before the Japanese teen could leave.

"I don't think he'll wake up, but keep your voice down," Trowa whispered as Heero reluctantly sidled into the room. "He hasn't been sleeping well, lately."

"I know," Heero muttered. "Once he **is** properly asleep, though, he can sleep through a lot..."

"Let's not take chances," Trowa said dryly. "I'd get up and let you take my place, but I don't think I could pry him loose." _Besides, I promised him I'd stay..._

Heero winced. "I doubt he'd want me in your place."

"I don't know about that," Trowa said, glancing down at Duo's sleeping face, blotched and tear-stained from crying. "He was pretty upset after you left."

"Yeah, at **me**."

Trowa snorted under his breath. "No, at the way he treated you, and at the situation in general. He was going to lash out at someone sooner or later, and you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Admittedly, you **did** give him a beautiful opening-"

Heero groaned softly, sinking into the chair beside the bed. "I **know**. I screwed that one up in style. Not even an hour after I promised to ask him things instead of assuming I know best, and I started laying down the law..."

"At least you know what you did wrong, and you're willing to admit it," Trowa pointed out in a whisper. "Now you just have to work on remembering not to do it again."

Heero almost laughed. "Ninmu ryoukai," he said softly, with a wry smirk. "And for God's sake, **don't** tell Quatre I said that!"

"Ooh. Blackmail material," Trowa grinned. Heero grinned back, a little lopsidedly, and they sat in silence for a while.

"Trowa?"

"Mmmm?"

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"...What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Heero muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his chair and avoiding Trowa's eyes. "You're being sympathetic and- and **helpful**... I thought you two **wanted** me to screw up."

There was another long pause as the European teen considered his answer.

"Quatre and I love Duo," he said quietly, "but we're not **in** love with him. It's a strange combination of the love you can feel for a friend, or a teammate, or a comrade-in-arms, or a family member... mixed with a physical attraction. In Duo's case, sometimes he seems like a bratty little brother," he added dryly, "but he's the sort of bratty little brother you're very fond of, not the sort you want to drown. We love him, and we'd be glad to bring him into our relationship... but it wouldn't be forever. It would be good while it lasted, but eventually, it **would** end, and Duo needs more than 'for now'." Looking over at Heero, he quirked his mouth in a half-smile. "Duo **is** in love with you, and you... well, it's hard to be sure sometimes, but there's hope for you yet."

"**Thank** you," Heero muttered sarcastically, blushing.

"Don't mention it," Trowa replied, equally sarcastically. "Anyway, if you can get and keep your act together, you'll be much better for Duo than we could ever be. So, no, we don't want you to screw up."

"Maybe **you** don't, but what about Quatre?"

"He may be a gentle pacifist, but there are some things Quatre is **very** slow to forgive. He's pissed off at you and wants you to suffer a bit, but I highly doubt he'd try to make your chances worse."

Heero seemed to be considering that seriously, so Trowa settled back against the pillows, cradling Duo securely against his side, and half-closed his eyes. "Besides," he murmured, watching Heero from under his lashes, "we want **you** to be happy as well. Duo isn't the only other pilot we've come to love and consider 'family'..."

* * * * *

Appearing at Uthmar's elbow, Gunnar chuckled softly. "Didn't I say he had style?"

"You did," Uthmar replied, suppressing a relieved grin. _And I know which one of those two looks more like a lord!_

_=*Yes,*=_ Torframos said dryly, _=*even wearing nothing but bloodstained pants and bandages. He certainly __**acts**__ more like a lord than Yithar does, and I don't think he's putting it on.*=_

_?_ Uthmar cast a quick, puzzled glance upwards.

_=*There's nothing forced about his manner,*=_ the god pointed out. _=*He's used to acting this way. Whatever sort of aristocracy they have where he comes from, he was born into it.*=_

_How high? Baron? Duke? __**Prince**__?_

_=*That I can't say... but I want you to have a long talk with that young man, while he's still borrowing Karthan's language skills.*=_ There was a short pause. _=*If I had to guess... prince.*=_

Wufei was just standing there, loose hair blowing around his face, watching Yithar as the half-elf lord dithered. Uthmar couldn't pick out any one thing in his stance or expression to account for it; but somehow the demon was managing to give the impression that he was waiting, without particularly high expectations, for his social and mental inferior to finish some ridiculously simple task.

- - - - - -

Yithar swallowed nervously, glancing from the demon, to the **huge** gold coins he'd poured on the table as negligently as if they were coppers, to the watching villagers, back to the demon. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he reached out towards the coins, then snatched his hand back.

"You... you can't pay!" he blurted abruptly. "You don't live here. You're not a villager. You can't pay for them!" He chewed at his bottom lip, glaring defiantly at the demon. _That's enough gold to pay the taxes for __**years**__, but... if he pays, I can't turn the villagers out! They'll think they can get away with __**sneering**__ at me- curse it all, where's that damned Champion?!_

Wufei raised one elegant eyebrow, and looked down his nose.

_Gods, he does that better than my cousin Taihar-_ Yithar hurriedly squashed an impulse to smile placatingly and say something mildly self-depreciating, his usual response when Taihar looked at him that way. _He's a __**demon**__, not a noble, and he's not even __**dressed**__! Why am __**I**__ feeling embarrassed?!_

"You are quite right," the demon drawled eventually, still in that astonishing perfect accent. "My error. I beg your pardon."

_**And**__ he's speaking in high mode as well,_ Yithar thought, torn between relief, regret and offense as he watched Wufei sweep the coins into his hands. _Superior-to-inferior... how did he learn that?! I thought he could barely speak a few dozen words- and how __**dare**__ he?_ he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Royce!" Wufei said sharply, turning towards the headman.

"Yes, m'l- ah, sir?"

"Here." Wufei took Royce's unresisting hand and poured the coins into it. "A gift to the village as a whole, as thanks for the hospitality you have shown me. Spend it as you see fit," he finished dryly, flicking a quick glance towards Yithar, that the half-elf didn't miss.

"Sir... Sir Wufei, this is **far** too much," Royce said shakily, looking down at the fortune in his hands. "We can't take-"

"Please," the demon said, voice softening slightly. "My people value kindness in a strange land very highly. I don't consider it excessive."

"Then... thank you, sir," Royce whispered, bowing. "I, I'm sure I speak for everyone-" He stumbled through a halting speech of gratitude, then turned to Yithar, eyes suspiciously bright as he sniffed and blinked.

"M'lord Yithar," he said formally. "I think we can pay our taxes now."

- - - - - -

_I should say they can!_ Uthmar thought, hiding a grin behind his beard as he strolled forwards. _Those coins are huge, and he's treating them like pebbles. Looks like he's a __**rich**__ demon prince!_

"I'm not taking those!" Yithar sputtered, looking a little desperate. "That's demon money- it could be cursed, or false gold or- or anything!"

"I believe I can answer that," the Champion said in his most offensively polite and cheerful voice, stepping up to the small group. "If you'll allow me, Goodman Royce?"

Poking through the coins Royce held out to him, he selected several at random and examined them carefully. Letting a little of Torframos's power leak into his hands, he held one up to the light and rubbed his thumb across the graceful horned animal engraved on one side.

_Well? They seem perfectly all right to me. Surprisingly pure gold, too._

=*Surprisingly? I should think so!*= Torframos answered. _=*That's nearly the purest gold I've ever seen; it's certainly the purest I've ever seen in the hands of a mortal. Not a trace of magic about it, either. You can tell your squeamish Purple Lord it's all right to take it- __**if**__ he can come up with enough change, that is!*=_

_That __**will**__ be a problem, won't it?_ Uthmar suppressed a chuckle as he handed the coins back. "I can testify to the fact that these coins are nothing more or less than very fine gold," he said calmly. "Leaving aside the rarity value, which could increase their value many times over - I'm not qualified to speak on the subject of what collectors might pay for one of these - one of these coins should be enough to pay for **two** quarters rent. Er, taxes." He watched the glitter of avarice in Yithar's eyes for a moment, then added casually, "Of course, if Lord Yithar isn't carrying sufficient funds to give change, we can always cut one in half-"

"NO!" Yithar screeched, horrified. "That would completely destroy the rarity value- ah- I'm mean, I'm **sure** I can- er-"

"But surely, the rarity value doesn't come into it?" Uthmar inquired mildly. "After all, you were calculating the value of various pieces of jewelry as if they were unworked metal and loose stones, not finished pieces. With that as a precedent, we can say definitively that it is only the metal value of the coin that matters, and cutting it certainly won't affect **that**." He watched Yithar hyperventilate for a while, then suggested, "Or we **could** consider the rarity value of the coin. In that case, we would have to postpone payment until that value could be properly assessed, and the required change would be immense... or we could revalue the jewelry as finished pieces, in which case, I think the villagers could pay this quarter's rent - er, tax - without resorting to Sir Wufei's extremely valuable gift." He smiled benevolently at Yithar.

"That won't be necessary," Yithar wheezed, hanging on to his composure by his metaphorical fingernails. "It is established Purple Lord custom to, ah, calculate the value of any precious metal item offered as tax as if it were unworked. It, ah, saves argument over the valuation."

_And makes you bloodsucking parasites a __**lot**__ of money,_ Uthmar thought, still smiling.

"I will be able to provide change in less than a week-"

"That's an extension," the dwarf pointed out. "If you wouldn't grant your tenants an extension, I don't see how you can ask for one yourself."

Royce unobtrusively kicked Uthmar's ankle. "If it's more convenient for m'lord Yithar," he said woodenly, "I'm sure we'd be glad to pay two quarters' in advance. There wouldn't be nearly so much change involved, then."

As Yithar babbled acceptance and almost ran to his baggage to get his money pouch, Royce leaned down to Uthmar and hissed, "Yes, sir, it **is** very funny, but let's not push our luck for the sake of a little revenge!"

"Oh, all right," Uthmar whispered back. "I don't get to act like Gunnar very often, that's all." Turning to Wufei, he quirked an eyebrow at the slender demon. "It's a good thing you had that gold on you! You haven't emptied your pockets, have you?"

"If you have," Royce said hurriedly, holding the coins out, "please-"

Wufei shook his head, looking after Yithar with a definite satisfied smirk on his face. "No," he said, "I have plenty more. Things are a lot more expensive where I come from." The smirk softened and widened into a genuine smile as he looked at Royce. "I usually use Krugerrands to buy weapons," he said softly. "This is the first time I've felt **good** about the use I put them to..."


	17. Chapter 16

Heero sat quietly for what seemed like a long time, staring out the window and turning Trowa's words over in his mind. It wasn't really that long, however; when he heard Quatre coming up the stairs, he sat up and automatically checked the clock, and was startled to see that it wasn't two in the afternoon yet.

"I made lunch," Quatre said quietly, edging into the room with a laden tray. "Is Duo awake yet?"

"Whuzzat?" Duo responded, propping himself up on one elbow and scrubbing at his eyes. "Sucky pillow," he mumbled, then blinked his eyes open and saw his 'pillow' looking back at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh. Hi, Trowa."

"Hi yourself," Trowa said, dryly amused, rolling off the bed onto his feet and stretching.

Looking up, Duo saw Heero and smiled sleepily... for just a second, before returning memories made him drop his eyes, smile fading.

_Oh shit,_ Heero thought, heart sinking. _Trowa was wrong. He's still mad-_

"Sorry, Heero," Duo muttered.

_What?!_ "No!" Heero blurted out, reaching towards him without thinking. "I mean- **I'm** the one who should apologise! I promised not to act like that. You had a right to get mad at me."

"Yeah, well, maybe I did," Duo said awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck, "but I shouldn't'a blown up at you after you'd apologised, the way I did. That wasn't fair."

Heero swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, smiling shakily. "I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me."

"Deal. ...Hey, Q, what's for lunch?" the braided teen said hastily, sitting up and whacking his pillows into a good shape to lean back on. "I'm **starved**!"

Heero shot Trowa one brief, thankful glance, and got up to investigate the contents of the tray.

* * * * *

Somewhere that didn't really exist as a physical location, Sharna stalked along a dim corridor. Small spits of angry green energy crackled around his fists, occasionally zapping sideways into the wall.

"Fine," he snarled under his breath, turning a corner. "So one demon wasn't enough. I'll see how long those two last if I send **three**-" Turning another corner at speed, he yelped as he slammed into something solid and staggered back.

"Going somewhere, **little** brother?" Krashnark enquired silkily, leaning casually against the corridor wall.

Fear flickered in Sharna's eyes for an instant before he straightened up, tugging jerkily at his clothes. "What do **you** want?" he growled, eyes shifting away.

"I asked first."

"I don't see that my business is any concern of yours!"

"No?" Krashnark pushed away from the wall and took a lazy step forwards, smiling thinly at his twin. "I'm not so sure. If you were planning to do something more about that new little human-demon, it's very much my concern. Our lord father said you could send **one** demon."

Sharna snorted, forcing his chin up. "Our lord father will reward what works! He won't **care** that I've sent more demons when I show him that piece of filth lying in a pool of his own guts."

"Not this time," Krashnark almost purred, smile widening. "He's placed the matter in **my** hands."

"What?! He can't do that! I want that whoreson dead by **my** hand-"

His brother lunged forward and caught Sharna by the throat, driving him back against the stone. Green and red light flared around them for an instant; then Sharna sagged, whimpering, and the green light died.

"Chang Wufei is **my** meat," Krashnark whispered, red fire dancing in his eyes. "I'll have him on his knees in front of one of my altars within a year, so you can forget about your revenge. It's not going to happen. If I find out you've taken an active part against him," he continued, hand slowly tightening, "I might just find out if our father can do without you. Understand me?"

Sharna managed to choke out a vaguely affirmative noise, and Krashnark dropped him.

"Unlike you, **dear** little brother," he said, turning away, "I don't promise things I can't deliver. Remember that."

* * * * *

"How many did he give you?" Naiya asked, voice hushed as she looked at the pile of huge gold coins in front of Royce.

"Twenty," Royce said, just as quietly.

"And **one** coin is worth two quarters' tax."

"More," Royce told her. One finger flicked a small stack of silver and copper coins, tipping it over; a single tiny gold coin showed at the bottom of the pile as it fell over. "We got change."

"So that's ten or eleven years' worth of tax there?" Gwent asked, pointing at the remaining coins.

"No."

"No?" Gwent looked puzzled. "But-"

"One coin is over two quarters' rent if you go by its weight," Gunnar told him, leaning on the table next to Royce. "If you sell them as incredibly fine examples of foreign-minted coinage - **really** foreign! - they're worth a lot more."

"How much more?" Royce still hadn't taken his eyes off the glittering pile.

Gunnar shrugged one shoulder. "Don't ask **me**; I just spend money, I'm no expert at valuing it. My sanitharlahnahk is a goldsmith, though, and a good one. I can send him a message if you want." A wicked grin appeared on his face. "You probably have enough money there to **buy** your own village somewhere, plus a good big tract of forested land, and set up as an independent borough. There's lots of places that would be more than happy to have you, too."

"What's a sanith- sanithar- what you said?" Rami asked, while the rest of the villagers were busy absorbing Gunnar's statement.

"Sanitharlahnahk?" Gunnar blinked. "The way you'd say it, it means... er... my brother's wife's sister-in-law's second cousin on her father's side. We're practically brothers; if I say there's something here he really should see for himself, he'll come."

"'Practically brothers', he says," Cord muttered, rubbing at his forehead. "Dwarves!"

Cameron pushed through the crowd of villagers, still limping slightly on his wrenched knee. "Gunnar? Sir Uthmar's talking to Wufei, out behind the forge, and wants you there."

- - - - - -

As Gunnar came around the corner of the forge, trailed by Cord and Naiya, Uthmar was showing definite signs of frustration.

"Why can't you just keep 'borrowing' Karthan's language skills? It'd make traveling with you a lot simpler!"

"And it makes everything else a lot **less** simple," Wufei snapped back; Gunnar was interested to note that he was using the 'speaking to equals' form of Spearman, just as fluently as he'd used 'superior to inferior' mode when talking to Lord Yithar.

_So he figures we're superior to Lord Pisspot? I __**knew**__ that boy was bright..._ Sidling over to Karthan, Gunnar whispered "Traveling?" and raised an enquiring eyebrow; Karthan nodded, but held up one hand to indicate 'later', attention fixed on the arguing Champion and demon.

"What do you mean?" Uthmar asked.

"For one thing, if I have the link open enough to borrow Karthan's skills, we start seeing out of each other's eyes, which is **very** distracting," Wufei said, folding his arms across his chest.

"**Oh** yeah," Karthan muttered under his breath. "Definitely. I didn't know it went both ways, though..."

"For another, if I'm wounded when we're in contact, it passes over to Karthan as well," the demon continued.

"We're not likely to run into anything serious on the way-"

"I don't think it was very likely that a huge screaming green blob-demon would dig its way here and attack us, but it happened," Wufei snorted, cutting Uthmar off. "Apparently this 'Sharna' person does things like that to people who've annoyed him, and since it didn't work the first time he's likely to do it again. Next time could have worse consequences than a few cuts and bruises," he muttered, shooting a mildly apologetic, ashamed glance in Karthan's direction. "I will learn to speak the language myself."

"For another thing, he's a very private person in some ways," Karthan whispered to Gunnar. "He **really** doesn't like the idea that we can poke around through each other's memories, and would like to keep it to a minimum. Can't say I disagree with that point of view, either. From what I've seen, some of his memories are **much** worse than mine. Some are just... private." He blushed slightly, looking away.

"All right," Uthmar sighed, giving in. "Can we at least clear up a few things now, before we go back to acting things out and drawing pictures?"

A faint chuckle escaped Wufei, and he bowed. "I am at your service... for now."

- - - - - -

A short time later, they had established that Wufei had been fighting a war in his own world, for what seemed to be perfectly good reasons, and that he had very little idea of how he'd gotten into the void from which he'd been summoned. Explanations of how things worked in his world were a little trickier.

"If there's no magic in your world, how do you **do** all these things?" Gunnar asked curiously. "Cities- **countries**- floating where there's no air or heat or weight, weapons that can destroy a city in a second... it sounds like magic to me!"

"It is **not** magic," Wufei insisted, frowning. "It's all science, and machines. There just aren't any words in your language to properly explain it- Karthan, are you all right?"

The dwarf was rubbing at his temples, grimacing. "I'm fine," he muttered through clenched teeth. "It's just... every time you try to explain something like that, there's a whole flood of information that comes up in your head, **and** in mine, and I understand it for just a second... and then I automatically try to put it into words. You're right, there **aren't** any, and it's giving me a headache."

"I'll close the link-"

"That's not necessary!" Karthan said hastily. "Just... can we change the subject?"

"There's something else I need to ask you, anyway," Uthmar said, flicking a quick glance upwards. "What's your rank?"

"Rank?" Wufei looked almost offended for a moment. "I hardly see that it matters here. Besides, I never **had** a formal rank; the Gundams started out working independently, and there aren't enough of us for a traditional command structure."

"No, not military rank, that's not what I meant," Uthmar said, waving one hand in negation. "I meant, what's your **social** rank? Baron? Prince?"

"Oh!" The demon blinked, then shrugged. "My clan don't- didn't- use those terms. I'm just a warrior."

"You don't **act** like 'just a warrior'," Naiya pointed out.

Cord grinned. "Aye, you act like a lord is **supposed** to act."

"Well, I'm **not** a lord," Wufei insisted, flushing slightly.

"Maybe you haven't been **called** a lord," Uthmar put in with another glance upwards, "but I'm sure we can work out what your rank equates to-"

"Why? Again, I don't see why it should matter here."

"It probably shouldn't," Gunnar said, drawling. "However, it will. There are plenty of idiots out there who won't take you seriously unless you have a title of some sort to wave in their faces. Or they'll try to order you around, if they think you're a commoner. Do you **want** some Purple Lord or an Axeman noble to try to conscript you into his army? There are a few out there who are dumb enough to try it." His grin widened. "I'd like to watch that, but..."

Wufei scowled. "I have no intention of lying about it."

"You won't have to," Gunnar told him. "All you have to say is that your people don't use our terms of rank, **but** you've been told your rank is equivalent to our... whatever. Perfectly true."

"...I suppose so."

"Well?"

Wufei shrugged, looking away. "I am the only son of the head family in my clan."

The others all looked at each other and nodded. "Prince," at least three voices said simultaneously.

"I am not!"

"According to our standards and rank structure, oh yes you are," Uthmar said calmly. "It'll save you a lot of trouble, too; I'd advise you to just accept it."

"Fine," Wufei grumbled, looking mutinous. "Just do me one favour. **Don't** tell Rami. She already seems to think of me as a romantic hero; finding out I'm a 'prince' would make her completely insufferable."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Naiya said sweetly, keeping a straight face with an effort.

"If you start calling me that, I'll go back to calling you 'onna'," Wufei threatened.

"All right then, I won't... sir."

He gave her a dirty look, and turned back to Uthmar as she snickered. "I have a few questions of my own, if you don't mind. I still know very little about this world, after all."

"If I can answer them, I will."

"Thank you." Wufei thought for a moment, then nodded slightly. "First, I'd better know something about the person I seem to have as an enemy. Who is Sharna?"

Uthmar looked startled, then frowned. "I thought we explained yesterday."

"I managed to understand that somebody called Sharna was mad at me for killing his servant," Wufei said dryly, "and was going to send either people or a demon to take revenge. The rest of it was... fuzzy."

"Ah. Well. Sharna's one of the Dark gods," Uthmar started.

"...what?" Wufei stared, wide-eyed.

"A Dark god. The god of demons and assassins, actually," the Champion explained.

"A god," the demon said flatly, closing his eyes and wincing. "Well, magic works here and you have demons; I suppose it's only logical for you to have gods as well... Logical! Ha!"

"You **don't**?!" Uthmar asked, aghast.

"No. We don't. A lot of people **believe** in various gods, but if they exist they never do anything... obvious," Wufei said, sounding a little strained. "We don't have magic, demons, or active gods- unless you want to believe Duo in his more extreme moods," he added under his breath, starting to pace. "A god. Wonderful. How many gods are there?"

"Seven Dark gods and fifteen Light gods," Gunnar said promptly. "Sixteen, if you count Orfressa."

"Ah. And I might not count her because...?"

"She's the universe."

"I **see**. Do I have to worry about all seven Dark gods, or just the one?" Wufei asked acidly, still pacing. "Not that one isn't **enough**!"

"Probably only one, and he can't act against you directly," Uthmar said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Why not? I would have thought dark gods would **enjoy** doing that sort of thing."

"**None** of the gods are permitted to act directly on anything in the world," Karthan said, wincing as Wufei spun on his heel and the faint images of what he was seeing spun with him. "It's the only rule the Dark gods have never broken. Sooner or later, two gods would end up acting against one another, and enough power could be released to destroy the world. Even the Dark gods don't want that... Wufei, **please** sit down! You're making me dizzy!"

Wufei didn't sit down, but he did stop pacing. "Sorry," he said, a little shakily. "I thought I was adjusting quite well to all the differences, but it appears I just hadn't reached what Duo would call my 'weird shit tolerance limit'."

"It's, uh, understandable," Uthmar muttered. "I did rather spring it on you." Ignoring the rude noise Gunnar made, he continued, "The restriction on direct action is why all the gods who are interested in mortals have priests and Champions to do things for them."

"Like our very own Champion, Sir Tactful, here," Gunnar said cheerfully.

"**Now** who's springing things on Wufei?" Karthan muttered.

"You're a Champion?" Wufei asked slowly. "The, ah, direct representative of a god?"

"Er... yes," Uthmar replied, feeling faintly embarrassed.

"I'm assuming it's a **Light** god?"

"Oh, yes. Torframos. He's the god of the earth."

=*Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Highness,*= a deep, amused voice said out of thin air.

"Don't **you** start! It's bad enough-" Wufei paled as he abruptly realised just who he was talking to. "Ah, I beg your pardon," he said stiffly, eyes wide. "I, ah, I think that's becoming a reflex..."

The deep voice chuckled. =*I'm the one who should apologise; I should know better than to tease someone who's just had a serious shock. And I seem to have startled everyone... Perhaps we'll speak again later, Chang Wufei.*=

"Ah, yes," Wufei said carefully, unable to think of anything else to say.

=*Until then,*= Torframos said, and fell silent.

There was a long pause.

"...Is he gone?" Naiya whispered, staring upwards.

"Yes, he's gone," Uthmar said sourly. "I'm going to have to talk to him about that..."

"You're going to tell off a **god**?" Cord rumbled, eyeing the dwarf with respect.

"Why not? He's **my** god," the Champion replied, one corner of his mouth quirking up under the beard.

"I think the rest of my questions can wait," Wufei said quietly, "especially if the answers are going to be that... **dramatic**. I have more than enough to think about for the time being. If you don't have any more urgent questions?"

"No; everything else can wait," Uthmar told him.

Wufei bowed wordlessly, walked a short distance away, and started a set of slow stretching exercises.

Karthan grunted softly, rubbing at his eyes. "That's better," he muttered, blinking. "Double vision is bad enough when both images are moving the same way!"

"He's closed the link?" Naiya asked, still shooting nervous glances upwards. "I should probably get you both breakfast."

"I don't think he wants any," Karthan told her. "He was thinking something about doing exercises and clearing his mind. Breakfast did not feature in his immediate plans."

"But he's still wounded!" she protested, looking over her shoulder as he ushered her away. "He shouldn't be putting any stress on his back yet. He doesn't heal **that** fast!"

"Believe me, lass, that's not going to stop him."

- - - - - -

For several minutes after they left, there was nothing behind the forge except Wufei, working his way through his daily Tai Chi exercises. Gradually, the tension eased from his muscles as he was able to put the problems facing him aside for the moment and concentrate on the forms; then he finished the Tai Chi, bowed to an imaginary opponent, and began his katas.

A patch of air behind him shimmered briefly, then settled. Nothing had visibly changed, but the hairs on the back of Wufei's neck prickled as he felt someone's eyes on him. He added a turn to the next pattern, swinging around with narrowed eyes to see who was there, and almost dropped out of stance with surprise when his eyes met empty air.

He was right, though. There **was** someone watching him.

_Interesting,_ Krashnark thought, one eyebrow lifting in mild surprise. _I'm shielding as strongly as I can, and intangible; that dwarf Champion could probably walk straight through me and never notice. Even his __**god**__ wouldn't notice. But this little human-demon somehow realised I was behind him. __**Very**__ interesting!_

Wufei shook his head slightly, dismissing the impression, and continued his kata, gradually increasing his speed and the power he put into the strikes.

A faint smile appeared on the Dark god's face as he noticed blood seeping through the bandages around the small demon's waist. _This one's far to good to be wasted satisfying my brother's infantile need for revenge,_ he thought, smile twisting into a sneer for a moment. _He's not even fighting a real enemy, but he doesn't let pain distract him from his focus. It's a pity I didn't bother to watch when my brother set his demon on him; I'm sure he burned brightly in that fight!_

This isn't just a matter of duty anymore, he mused, walking in a slow circle around Wufei as the Chinese pilot spun and kicked. _Or a matter of putting Sharna in his place. I want this Chang Wufei for __**myself**__. It may not be too hard to convince him, either... after all, what better patron for a true warrior than the god of war?_

Krashnark paused as a thought struck him. _I could even make him my champion._

I _**was**__ just planning to have him worship me. I haven't taken a champion for... how long? Centuries? None of the mortals have caught my attention like this for a very long time..._

_**He**__ might be worth the trouble. I'll think about it._

Krashnark watched silently until Wufei finished, bowed to his imaginary opponent, and walked off.

* * * * *

"Geez... who let Frankenstein into the house?" Duo muttered, listening to the slow, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. "Who is it?" he yelled.

"Me," Heero's voice called back, sounding slightly strained.

"What are you **doing**?"

"Hang on a second." The footsteps clumped along the corridor to Duo's half-open door, which was kicked open to reveal a large box with Heero's legs visible below it.

"Heero, what the hell- Is that a bar fridge?!" Duo demanded, eyes widening as he read the lettering on the box.

"Yes." The box wobbled across the room until it was next to Duo's bed, then lowered to the floor. Heero's slightly red face rose above it, and he started opening the top flaps.

"Why did you get a bar fridge, Heero?" Duo asked quietly, not sure whether to be delighted or mildly annoyed.

"I figured you needed something to keep all the sodas from going warm."

"...You bought soda."

"Hn."

"Heero, I was under the distinct impression that your opinion of soda was rather lower than your opinion of tequila as a mild thirst quencher," Duo said conversationally, lying back and looking thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Only if the tequila doesn't have the maggot thing in it," Heero grunted, crawling underneath the bed to plug the little fridge in. "Tequila **with** maggot is worse than soda."

"It's not a maggot. It's a cactus worm."

"Whatever. **I'm** not going to be drinking the sodas, so my opinion of them doesn't matter."

"Uh-huh. You bought a bar fridge so I could keep soda in my room, is that it?"

"And ice cream," Heero told him, picking up the flattened cardboard box and heading for the door. "It's got a freezer compartment."

Duo pulled the blankets over his head and gave in to a fit of mildly hysterical giggles.

- - - - - -

About an hour later, passing through the lounge room on the way to do some work on his Gundam, Quatre paused in confusion as he saw the empty space on top of a low table. "Trowa," he said, looking back over his shoulder, "where's the stereo?"

"Heero took it up to Duo's room," Trowa said calmly.

"Oh. Well... I guess that's reasonable," the blond muttered. "He's usually the one who wants it on, after all."

"Heero's reasoning was more along the lines of 'Duo Must Not Get Bored Or He'll Get Up'."

"I can see his point," Quatre admitted, then blinked and leaned sideways for a better view around Trowa's shoulder. "And... the TV?"

Trowa pointed upwards silently.

"That's going a bit far! We need to watch the news bulletins on that!"

The taller boy shrugged. "We can still watch them. We just have to go up to Duo's room to do it."

"...And the company, and having the TV up there, will help keep Duo from getting bored, right?"

"Right."

"All right," Quatre sighed, starting to walk again, "but if we come back and find that the stove has vanished, we're putting Heero on sedatives."

Time passed. Maintenance was done. Eventually, Quatre came back to the house to fetch coffee for himself and Trowa.

He walked into the kitchen, paused, and then walked out again. After a quick search of the ground floor, finding no-one, he walked to the bottom of the staircase and glared upwards.

"All right," he called coldly. "WHERE IS MR. COFFEE?"

There was a faint sputtering noise, then laughter. "Busted, Heero!" Duo called, still laughing. "I **told** you you weren't going to get away with it!"

"I don't mind the stereo," Quatre insisted, stamping up the stairs. "I can live without the television. But Duo is **not** the only person in this house who drinks coffee, and we can **not** visit his room whenever we want a cup!" Throwing open the door, he glared around, noting that all the missing items were there, as well as what looked like every book and magazine in the house.

"Don't blame **me**, Q," Duo said cheerfully from the bed. "I only asked for a mugful, not the whole coffeemaker!"

"Oh, I know who's responsible," Quatre told him, glaring at Heero as he stalked across to unplug the coffeemaker from the powerboard and coil up the cable. "You're acting like a magpie, Heero, or maybe a bowerbird. It's like Aladdin's cave in here!"

"Wrong fairytale," Heero said, stopping him on his way out the door; frowning, Quatre looked over at him, leaning back to balance the coffeemaker's weight.

"Oh? Which one should it be?"

A faint smile lifted one corner of Heero's mouth. "Ali Baba and the One Thief," he said quietly.


	18. Chapter 17

The four pilots had dinner in Duo's room that night, while watching the news. Quatre sat in a chair by the bed, with Trowa on the floor leaning back against his legs; Heero was perched on the edge of the mattress by Duo.

"We should bring up a couple more chairs," Quatre mused, scooping up a forkful of pasta.

"Not on my account," Trowa said, reaching back to pat his lover's knee. "I like this." _And it gives Heero a chance to be close to Duo without being pushy about it,_ he added silently, smiling faintly as he glanced sideways under cover of his hair. _After all, he has to sit __**somewhere**__..._

Heero's eyes were fixed on the television screen, with the occasional glance down at his plate, but his body language showed that he was acutely aware of Duo beside him. _It's impossible to stay that close to someone without ever bumping into them by accident,_ Trowa thought, watching Heero's elbow tuck in a centimeter or two, just enough to avoid being hit by Duo's as the braided pilot chased a noodle around his bowl. _He's trying so hard not to make Duo uncomfortable. I'd laugh, but then I'd have to explain what was so funny._

[ [ ...and finally, we have a statement from Relena Dorlian-Peacecraft, Vice Foreign Minister in the interim Earth government. Your Majesty? ] ]

[ [ Just Minister, please, or Miss, ] ] Relena said, smiling sweetly at the announcer. [ [ The Sanc Kingdom no longer exists as a separate nation, and in any case, I abdicated any rights to the throne several months ago. ] ]

"Whoa," Duo said, pausing with his fork halfway to his mouth. "The Queen of the World is turning down her proper homage? Freaky."

"Be nice," Trowa murmured.

"Duo, hush," Quatre scolded. "Let's listen to what she has to say before we start insulting her."

"Okay, but if she declares her undying love for Heero on world-wide TV, I'm gonna ralph."

Heero almost choked. "She's done everything but that," he growled.

[ [ Citizens of Earth and of the Colonies, greetings, ] ] Relena continued, then dimpled slightly at the camera. [ [ That sounds a little awkward and pompous, I think, but I can't exactly say 'good evening' considering the number of time zones I'm speaking to. ] ]

"Ugh," Duo muttered under his breath. "She's doing cute at us. Save me from the saccharin, Heero."

Heero glanced at him, a little uncertainly, then smirked. "Hn. Close your eyes," he advised, and put his hands over Duo's ears.

"Will you two be **quiet**?! Quatre sputtered, torn between annoyance and laughter.

Snickering, Duo batted at Heero's hands. "Yeah, Heero, behave. Quatre says stop distracting us."

"Oh, **you** start it and suddenly it's **my** fault?"

"Trust me, Heero," Trowa said dryly. "With these two, you can't win."

"**Shush**!" Quatre grabbed the remote from the bedside table and turned up the volume.

[ [ -matter of titles is actually related to what I wish to say, ] ] Relena was saying. [ [ In a few months, at most, there will be a world-wide referendum on the question of what form Earth's government will take in the future. Will we remain unified as one nation, or will we revert to separate countries again? I'm here to ask people to vote for the first option. ] ]

[ [ And more than that, ] ] she went on, looking serious, [ [ I'm asking the colonies to join with Earth. I'm asking for the formation of a new entity; not space versus soil, not one subordinate to the other, but a unified Earth Sphere. Every human in our solar system, no matter where they were born or where they stand today, living in peace with one another as countrymen. ] ]

"...o-kay," Duo muttered, eyebrow lifting. "Didn't see **that** one coming..."

[ [ I realise that many, if not most, people will view this proposal with skepticism, ] ] Relena said quietly. [ [ There have been far too many times recently when one organisation or another has preached unification, equality and peace, when what they really wanted was a comfortable lie to keep people docile while they consolidated their grasp on power. This time **has** to be different, if it's to have any chance of success. ] ]

[ [ Previous governments have been distant from the people they were supposed to represent, ] ] she continued, leaning forward earnestly. [ [ Some countries have been governed by a hereditary aristocracy, like my homeland. Others have been theoretically democracies, but in practice it was impossible to be elected if you weren't from the 'right' families and immensely wealthy; and once in office, you were considered an idiot if you didn't fatten your bank balance even more. It's very hard for the average person to have any sort of trust in their leaders, if they know that there's no way for them to **become** one of those leaders... and no real reason for their leaders to care what they think or want. ] ]

"Says Miss from-the-right-family-and-filthy-rich," Duo snorted. "By her reasoning, she shouldn't have anything to do with the new government, but I bet she's not going to resign."

"Duo!" Quatre hissed.

"I know... 'hush'!"

[ [ Previous attempts at unification would have been better termed subjugation, too, ] ] Relena said wryly. [ [ One country has conquered another, or a colony has been considered as inferior to the homeland- both on earth and after man moved out into space. Again, there has been a clear division between governed and governors, rich and poor, high class and low. If we're ever to achieve a true peace, we have to get away from this way of thinking! ] ]

"Sometimes, her idealism and naivete is frightening," Duo whispered to himself.

[ [ That's why I'm asking people to vote for a unified Earth! ] ] she continued, eyes flashing with enthusiasm. [ [ After this first referendum, there will be more, concerning precisely what form of government we should adopt. We, the members of the interim cabinet, are **not** going to tell you what's going to happen; we're waiting for **you** to tell us. Surely, if we all work together- if we **all** decide that we want a unified nation with a government that is **truly** representative of its people- we can devise something that will work! Even if it's not perfect to begin with, we can learn from our mistakes and improve. **Everyone** has a stake in this. We have a chance to build a better future together; a future where social class and wealth aren't the divisive element they are today. ] ]

[ [ 'Everyone' means the colonies, too. Just because we've been enemies in the past doesn't mean we have to be enemies in the future, or even separate from one another. You've been treated badly in the past by Earth; first by the Alliance- who, at least, were straightforward enough not to pretend they were acting in your best interest- and then by OZ. You have a right to be suspicious of this sort of offer. But please, consider joining with us; not as subordinates or lesser allies, but as equal partners in the attempt to build a peaceful Earth Sphere- ] ]

Relena broke off for a moment, eyes wide, and then laughed. [ [ Oh, dear! I'm afraid I've just illustrated the need to learn from our mistakes... Why call it the **Earth** Sphere? It's awfully planet-centric. It would be far too easy to think of Earth as the main part and the colonies as 'extras'. The interim cabinet has been fussing over the various options open to us for days, and **none** of us realised the name could be a problem! ] ] She laughed again, shaking her head. [ [ You see? This is why we **must** have a government that **has** to listen to its citizens. ] ]

"What do you want to bet that was written into her speech?" Duo muttered cynically.

[ [ That's really all I have to say for now, ] ] Relena finished, smiling at the camera. [ [ Please, think about what I've said, everyone. We have an opportunity to start from a clean slate, here, and I think it would be a shame to waste it. Thank you. ] ]

[ [ Thank you, Ms. Dorlian-Peacecraft, ] ] the announcer smiled. [ [ I'm sure your words have made an impact on many people to- ] ]

Quatre muted the TV and turned to the others. "Any thoughts? Or have you already made all your comments?" he added dryly, looking at Duo.

"Think she means it?" Duo asked. "The whole 'rich-or-poor, social status doesn't matter' jazz, I mean. We **know** she's serious about the peace part of it..."

"I think she's sincere," Heero admitted grudgingly. "She doesn't generally act or speak contrary to her true feelings."

"Well, yeah... it's not like she played hard to get after all."

"Duo!"

"**If** Mister Cynicism has finished with the Peanut Gallery comments...?"

"Oh, come on Q, we all know what she's like! Though she **did** seem serious," Duo mused. "Maybe **too** serious. A couple of times, there, she had the same obsessed stalker glint in her eyes that she gets around Heero-"

Trowa calmly leaned forward, pulled one of the pillows out from behind Duo and hit him with it.

* * * * *

"So, are you going to explain that 'travelling' comment?" Gunnar asked, sitting down opposite Uthmar with his breakfast. "I may only be your second-in-command, but I **do** need to know these things once in a while..."

Uthmar looked at him, over the rim of his mug, with a jaundiced expression. "D'you have any idea how much sleep I got last night?"

"Well, you were still pacing around the square when I went to bed, so... no."

"Neither do I. **Don't** push it." The Champion took another large swig of tea and set his mug down with a sigh. "The 'travelling' comment was a reference to the fact that Wufei has agreed to come with us when we leave."

"Mm-hm?" Gunnar raised a finger, chewing hastily. "Mmf- _*gulp*_ Good. I can think of a few people who wouldn't be too happy if we went back and said 'Yes, there were a couple of demons there, but they liked the village so we let them stay'."

Uthmar rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one. I was all set to spend hours persuading him to come, but he agreed right away."

The shorter dwarf snickered. "Maybe he's afraid Rami's going to propose."

"She may be the only thing he's afraid of," Uthmar snorted, prudently lowering his voice. "From what I've heard and seen, though, she's more likely to nobly give him up to her friend Naiya and romantically pine away, consoled only by the thought that her beloved will be happy."

Gunnar nearly choked on his next mouthful, coughing and sputtering. "Oh, gods," he gasped, eyes streaming. "She should write tragic ballads. I know at least three minstrels and a bard who'd have to **sweat** to come up with anything that bad..."

"It wouldn't be nearly as funny if there was a grain of truth to the whole 'romantic triangle' idea," Uthmar pointed out wryly. "Anyone with sense enough to come in out of the rain can see there's nothing going on."

"Rami must get soaked fairly often, then," Gunnar chuckled, wiping at his eyes. "So, Wufei's coming with us. Where to?"

"South, first," the Champion said, abruptly serious again. "There's a temple of Sharna down there that we've got business with."

"You won't hear me arguing about that, but... are we waiting for reinforcements?" Gunnar asked, eyebrows lifting. "Or do you think six lay brothers will be enough to back up your august personage and his Demonic Highness?"

Uthmar opened his mouth to answer, then paused and glared upwards as a sputter of godly laughter echoed in the back of his mind. "Any time you want to take him and his sense of humour off my hands, Torframos, just say the word," he sighed. "I'll manage without him. **Really**."

"Does the position of 'Jester to the Gods' come with a pay raise?" his second-in-command asked innocently.

* * * * *

"I will be leaving for my estate soon," Lord Yithar snapped, looking down his nose at the human lay brother- at least, he tried to. It was difficult to look down your nose at someone three inches taller than you. "**Today**, in fact. Tell your leader."

"Certainly, my lord," Cameron said, inclining his head in the merest sketch of a bow, and ambled off at a pace that wouldn't strain his wrenched knee. Yithar scowled after him, wishing he dared order him to hurry; he had a niggling suspicion that the order would be ignored, and he'd suffered enough embarrassment for one lifetime.

Some time later, Uthmar strolled up, still combing crumbs out of his beard. "Leaving so soon, Lord Yithar?" he asked pleasantly. "I hope you have a pleasant trip."

"I'd better!" Yithar sputtered indignantly. "**You're** going to be escorting me home!"

"Actually, I have another commitment."

"You- you **what**?!" The half-elf's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed another word. "**What** other commitment?! It's dangerous out there, demons and- and **things** prowling around! You **have** to escort me!"

"I think you're overstating the situation, m'lord," Uthmar said calmly, a faint, polite surface smile on his face. "This area is **not** crawling with 'demons and things'. **Yet**. Ensuring that this state of affairs continues is, I think, a higher priority than walking you home. You have your armsmen, after all."

"But-"

"This is what the militant orders **do**, m'lord," the dwarf continued smoothly, still smiling. It didn't reach his eyes. "We don't protect people by waiting for evil things to come after the particular person we're guarding. We protect them by going and getting the evil things **first**. Oh, and Prince Wufei will be accompanying us..."

"But you can't just- **Prince**?!" Yithar blinked, jerked completely away from his train of thought. "He's a **prince**?"

"Well, yes." Uthmar did a good job of looking mildly surprised. "I've spoken to him on the subject and although he's reluctant to claim the title, his rank, among his own people, does equate to prince. Torframos agrees," he added casually. "As I was saying, Prince Wufei will assist us in dealing with the temple, and then we will return to our Motherhouse. I'm sure there's some other area that needs us."

"He's- but- are you **sure**-?" Yithar whimpered, still stuck on '**Prince** Wufei'; then the rest of what Uthmar had said registered, and he seemed to snap into focus. "When you say 'we', do you mean Pr- ah- **he** is also going to your Motherhouse with you?"

"Oh, yes. Until he learns more about this world and can decide what to do, he's going to remain with the Order."

"And he's going to take **that** with him?" The half-elf jerked his hand towards Nataku's looming form, not **quite** pointing.

"Definitely. Nataku goes where Prince Wufei goes," Uthmar told him, putting a little extra emphasis on the title. _There's no harm in twisting the knife just a bit __**this**__ time,_ he thought, watching Yithar's expression take on a tinge of smug anticipation. _You needn't think I don't know why you want to be sure they won't be here. Arrogant, spiteful little-_ "Of course, we can't leave until our reinforcements arrive. And the permanent garrison, too. Luckily, they caught a favourable wind coming along the coast and up the Spear River... and they started out as soon as we found that summoning site in the canyon, of course, so they should arrive tomorrow." Uthmar smiled cheerfully at Yithar, who suddenly looked as if he'd just realised he'd bitten into a mindanwe fruit.

"**What** permanent garrison?" he asked, flat-voiced.

Again, Uthmar proved he could fake a surprised expression. "Well, m'lord, this is a very thinly populated area, and this incident has proven that Sharna's servants have established a significant presence here in secret. Now that we know there's a temple in the southern end of the Spinewall, we can deal with it, but there may still be others we don't know about. Obviously this region requires a permanent guard, so... the Order of Torframos is going to set up a chapter house. Torframos tells me the Sisterhood of Lillinara are considering an outpost of their own, too." Uthmar's smile widened a fraction as he watched Yithar's expression curdle. "A site hasn't been decided on yet, but I think it'll be quite close to this village. They've already been attacked once, after all, so we'll be keeping them under observation. Just in case."

"That's... well, I don't see..." Yithar said weakly, visibly casting around for a logical objection and not finding one.

"Yes, m'lord?" _You can't argue that it's not necessary; you already claimed this area is dangerous. 'Demons and things'!_ Uthmar nearly snorted, keeping his expression straight with an effort. _And if the Order keep an eye on this place, you can't weasel their new gold out of them without getting caught. Stew in __**that**__, brown britches!_

...Gunnar's right. This is _**fun**__._

=*Don't enjoy it _**too**__ much,*=_ Torframos murmured, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the chuckle in his 'voice'.

_Define 'too much',_ Uthmar shot back.

"...well, yes, a chapter house would be a good thing," Yithar said reluctantly. "Temporarily, at least. Until the, ah, immediate problem has been handled... but I really don't think I can sell you any land for a site," he added quickly, brightening. "Er, I'm sure you can site it somewhere else... further away."

"We weren't planning to **buy** land," the dwarf replied. "The Spinewall is crown land; we're negotiating for a grant. **Nearby**." He spread his hands and grinned at Yithar as the lord abruptly slumped again, hopes dashed. "When you think of land, m'lord, you think of cropland and forests. **We** just need a defensible site to build on, and for that the Spinewall is perfect. Now if you'll excuse me...? I have preparations to make."

"Yes... very well," Yithar said sourly, waving him away.

Humming to himself, Uthmar sauntered back across the square to Cord's house. _Well. That improved my mood..._

- - - - - -

Wufei packed his duffel bag away in one of Nataku's compartments, swung down to the ground on the lift wire, and turned around-

-to be confronted with a pair of shimmering, tear-filled blue eyes, at extremely close range.

"Gah!" Startled, he jerked backwards and came up short against Nataku's leg, staring at Rami. _She wasn't there when I climbed out of the cockpit! How'd she __**do**__ that?!_

"Is it true, Wufei?" she asked mournfully, voice throbbing with emotion. "You're **leaving**?"

_Oh gods, not now!_ he thought, feeling a sinking sensation as he took in the full impact of her Say-It's-Not-So expression and posture, hands clasped over her heart. _She looks like the tragic heroine out of that film Duo thought was 'so bad it's hilarious'. At least she hasn't got a Southern accent..._

Salvation presented itself, in the form of Naiya.

"Yes, Rami, he's leaving," she said dryly, coming up behind the blonde girl with a couple of Wufei's shirts in her hand. "Why are you wearing your best dress?"

Wufei thankfully grasped at the offered escape and took the shirts, grabbing the lift wire again.

_I can handle all sorts of battles,_ he thought sheepishly as he rose. _I can even face demons, it seems, but I can't face __**her**__! At least when Quatre or Duo resort to using the 'big blue eyes' tactic, I can reason with them... or go on a mission!_

I'm beginning to understand Heero's reaction to Relena.

- - - - - -

Naiya spared an amused glance for Wufei's retreating form, then looked Rami up and down. "You're wearing your necklace, too... **and** eardrops! What's the occasion?"

"He's **leaving**!"

"Yes, and?" The hradani girl tilted her ears back. "You didn't think he was going to stay here forever, did you?"

"He could," Rami insisted, pouting. "If he really **wanted** to."

"And what would he **do**?" Naiya considered steering the smaller girl away from Nataku so Wufei would have a clear escape, but gave up that idea when she saw how stubborn Rami's expression was becoming. "Grow crops? Chop wood? He's a p-warrior, not a peasant!"

"He and Nataku would defend us, of course!"

"From **what**? D'you really want us to be attacked by demons on a regular schedule, just so Wufei will have something to do?"

"No, but- but there are brigands, and-"

Naiya rolled her eyes. "Almost never, Rami. And even then, they're a little beneath Wufei's abilities, don't you think? We usually manage to handle them ourselves!"

"But-"

"No 'buts', Rami. There's nothing to keep him here."

"Oh?" Rami tossed her head, looking at Naiya from underneath her long lashes. "What about you?"

"**What** about me, Rami?" Naiya's voice had gone completely expressionless, and Rami hastily reconsidered her next words.

"Well- uh- aren't you going to miss him?"

"I'm **not** in love with him, Rami," Naiya said pointedly, "and he's **not** in love with me."

"I never said that," Rami mumbled, not entirely truthfully, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers.

"Ha. Yes, I will miss him, I suppose," Naiya admitted, "but I'm not going to try to keep him here. Honestly, Rami, do you **really** think someone like him would be happy, living in a small village for the rest of his life?"

"...I suppose not." Rami sighed.

"So, why **are** you wearing your best dress and jewelry?" Naiya asked impishly, tucking her hand through Rami's arm and drawing her away.

"Naiya, you have **no** sense of drama!" The blond girl rolled her eyes. "You **have** to wear your best clothes for a tearful farewell!"

"Whatever you say, Rami. Want some tea?"

Rami giggled. "Well, since you spoiled my big scene..."

"'Scene'?" Naiya stopped short, staring at Rami with narrowed eyes. "You're not nearly as serious about this as everyone thinks, are you?"

"Well, I know Wufei's not in love with **me**," Rami said frankly. "And, well, he **is** very handsome, in a scary demonic sort of way, but... I can't imagine him settling down and having children in a comfortable little cottage, doing repairs and things. **I** want the cottage and the children and the sort of husband who'll fit in there, so there was no point falling in love with him." She smiled up at Naiya. "It was fun pretending, though. **Just** like a ballad!"

"Rami," Naiya said faintly, "sometimes you frighten me."

"Why?" Rami blinked at her, looking a little worried. "If it's about Wufei not being the domestic type of husband, I'm sure he'd be just fine for someone who's more, um, adventurous than I am."

"No, Rami, that's not... never mind."

"**I'll** make the tea," Rami declared, changing direction and tugging Naiya after her. "You're looking rather pale."

When Cord found them, a short while later, Naiya had recovered her equilibrium and was listening to Rami chatter with a faint smile on her face.

"There y'are, lass," he said, sounding relieved. "I've got a thing or two to be discussing wi' ye, if Rami doesn't mind the interruption..."

Naiya started to get up, but Rami waved her down again. "You've hardly touched your tea, and I've got a new fruit loaf fresh out of the oven. You two sit down and talk here! I have to get changed anyway, so you'll have privacy." She whisked another tea mug and a plate of spiced bread onto the table, smiled brilliantly at Cord, and left.

"Wait until I tell you what **she's** been up to," Naiya chuckled quietly. "What's the matter?"

"Nowt," Cord said, accent thicker than usual. He fidgeted uneasily with his mug for a while, then reached out and took his daughter's hand, clearing his throat. "Naiya, girl... with th' lad Wufei leaving and the Order wi' him, I've been thinking... well, ye know I never meant us to stay here forever. Never meant to stay as long as we have, either, only... ye were growin' up happy, wi' friends and all..." He trailed off, and Naiya squeezed his hand.

"Thinking of going home?" she asked softly.

"Aye, that I am," he sighed. "We could go with the Order all the way to Axe Hallow, make our way across to Horse Stealer lands on our own... th' Champion'd likely give us a safe-conduct pass, in case anyone got nervous 'bout a couple o' 'murderin' hradani' wandering loose," he snorted. "We could get back easy. But... well, I don't know if we rightly should. This place's been yer home most of yer life, girl. Might be you'd rather stay here, and if that's so, speak up an' don't be afraid. S'not a bad place, an' I wouldn't mind..."

Naiya peered into her mug, apparently fascinated by patterns in the glaze. "Aren't you going to be in trouble if we go back?"

"Might be," Cord shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Might have blown over by now. Hells, girl, we haven't heard anything from up north for so long, ever'one who cared might be dead an' forgotten!"

"Might be alive and with long memories, too," she said sharply, glaring at him briefly before returning to her examination of the mug.

"Aye, well... then we find somewhere else that needs a smithy."

"Hmph." She stayed silent for a while, then slowly smiled. "Well... I remember Hurgrum pretty well. Not a lot like here, is it?"

"No..." he said uncertainly.

"Any landlord who tried to tell his tenants that 'rent' equals 'tax' would find out differently quick smart," she mused, raising an eyebrow at her father. "If I never see another Purple Lord again, I won't miss 'em. Let's go home!"

- - - - - - -

Of course, they had to tell Rami when she came back...

"I knew it! I **knew** there was something between you and Wufei! Why **else** would you be leaving with him?!"

"RAMI!"

* * * * *

Quatre yawned hugely. "Ufff! Excuse me... I think it's time I went to bed."

Trowa stood up and stretched. "Good idea. 'Night Duo, Heero."

"G'night, guys," Duo said cheerfully, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Hmph. **There's** a good thing about the TV being in here," Quatre smirked. "When you finish watching the late-late-late movie, you won't be trying to sneak upstairs in the dark and waking the rest of us up."

"I only woke you up **once**!" Duo protested indignantly. "And it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't tripped!"

"...over an invisible seam in the carpet," Trowa pointed out, straight-faced. "That takes **talent**."

Duo blew a raspberry at him. "Nyer. You're just jealous 'cause you can only do triple somersaults with twists, not half-gainer faceplants."

Trowa chuckled. "**Goodnight**, Duo."

"Don't stay up **too** late," Quatre said wryly.

"With Heero watching me like a hawk? Fat chance!"

"I wasn't going to say a word!" Heero insisted. "Really!"

"No, but I'm perfectly capable of guilt-tripping myself into behaving," Duo sighed. "See? This is me switching the TV off. This is me being good and not getting out of bed to go to the bathroom without help. Hint, hint."

Heero solemnly got up and offered his arm. "Would you like a hand there?"

"Why, thank you, Heero. How considerate of you..."

By the time Heero helped Duo back from the bathroom, there was no sign of Quatre and Trowa, apart from the closed door to their bedroom. Heero got his charge back to his room and settled on the edge of the bed, made sure that everything he might want during the night was within arm's reach, and started to leave.

"If you need a hand, just yell," he said, pausing at the door after turning off the main light. "I'll leave my door open, and this one, so-"

"Um..."

Startled by the uncertain tone of Duo's voice, Heero glanced back. The braided teen was sitting in the pool of light cast by the bedside lamp, pleating the edge of his sheet into numerous folds.

"You could sleep in Wufei's bed," Duo said, not looking up. "If you want. Just so I don't wake up Tro and Q if I need something during the night, I mean... that's all."

"...Sure," Heero got out. "I'll just, uh, get a clean t-shirt to sleep in..."

"'kay." Duo almost dove under the blankets, burying his blush in the pillows.

_Maybe he wants company?_ Heero thought hopefully, heading for his room. _He didn't ask the others... maybe he wants __**me**__ there for him?_

Whatever. At least he doesn't want me _**not**__ there._


	19. Chapter 18

"Do you think Jarad is going to try to follow us?"

"I doubt it, lass," Cord rumbled, adjusting his massive pack. "His mother swears she won't let him out of her sight for a week-"

"-which won't stop him if he's determined," Naiya pointed out.

"-**and** His Highness in there made the lad promise not to," her father finished, jerking his thumb towards Nataku with a grin. "That'll stop him if anything will."

"Ah. You're right," she chuckled. "I certainly can't think of anything else that would keep him away from his hero!"

"Myself, I'm more worried about that Rami," he said uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder as if he expected to see the glint of sun on yellow hair in the distance.

"Er... no," she said firmly. "She won't be doing that."

"Hm? What makes you so sure?"

"I'd like to know too, if you don't mind, since it'll be my responsibility to make sure she gets back safely if she comes after us," Uthmar said, moving up on her other side. "Did she, for example, nobly inform you that Wufei was all yours and she hoped you'd be happy together?"

Naiya snorted. "Not **quite**, m'lord Champion. I **do** have it on very good authority that she thinks Wufei is 'very handsome, in a scary demonic sort of way', but he's not the domestic type, so she doesn't want to marry him." She decided **not** to tell anyone the rest of what Rami had told her, amusing though it might be. _Except perhaps Father, if he promises not to pass it on,_ she amended mentally, glancing sideways at the huge metal demon-machine easily keeping pace with them on the ground by the road. _I don't really want to know how Wufei would take the news that Rami was acting out her favourite ballads, using him as a living prop..._

"Aye! That sounds like Rami," Cord laughed, trading grins with Uthmar. "She acts like there's nothing in her head but air and fluff, and then she comes out with something dead practical."

"And then she goes back to air and fluff," Naiya said, smiling a little wistfully. _I'm going to miss her..._

As they approached a fork in the road- one branch continuing southwest along the Spinewall, the other bending to the east, towards a pass through the rough hills- Lord Yithar kicked his horse forwards, catching up.

"I'll be leaving you here," he snapped at the Champion, ignoring everyone else.

"I realise that, m'lord, and I wish you a good journey back to your estate," Uthmar said pleasantly, nodding.

Yithar didn't return the courtesy, glaring sidelong at Nataku instead. "You'd best see to it that **those** two don't return to Purple Lord lands," he said abruptly, jerking at the reins so that his horse tossed its head, snorting. "I've been very forbearing, after all, and some of my brother lords won't be as- as **understanding** about a demon striking a lord, even if he **was** ignorant of my rank at the time. **I** won't invoke the full legal penalties for such an act, of course, but someone else could."

Uthmar worked his jaw slightly, considering possible replies, but Gunnar beat him to it. "Actually, m'lord, I believe Prince Wufei was acting within the law when he struck you. Purple Lord law does allow high-ranking nobles to strike their inferiors, after all, and he **is** a prince. In fact, if anyone was in the wrong, it would be **you**, m'lord, for drawing your sword on him and then ordering your armsmen to attack." Gunnar smiled at the open-mouthed half-elf, scratching his chin through his beard as he continued. "Of course, I haven't had the opportunity to ask His Highness, but I'm sure he'd take the position that the full penalties shouldn't be applied to you, since **you** were also unaware of **his** rank at the time-"

"Good **day**!" Yithar choked out, sinking in his spurs and sending his horse towards the pass at a dead run. His armsmen swore under their breath and urged their mounts after him; at the end of the line, the man who'd been injured in the fight with Wufei groaned and followed at a gentle canter, swaying in the saddle.

"Good day, m'lord prick," Gunnar said quietly, waving goodbye. "Don't wet your bed..."

- - - - - -

"Good riddance," Wufei muttered, watching the viewscreen as Yithar rode off into the hills. He felt he'd been very fortunate that Yithar had avoided him whenever possible; everybody who'd had to interact with the half-elf on his terms came away either pale or swearing.

Well, he was gone now, and Wufei had more productive things to think about.

His vocabulary was increasing with surprising speed, and Gunnar and Karthan were very good at sketching or pantomiming things he didn't have words for, so they'd been able to explain Uthmar's basic plan to him without resorting to his link with Karthan. Thanks to that, he hadn't been surprised when nearly sixty soldiers arrived at the village, dressed in the same colours as Uthmar and his men. **They'd** been surprised when they saw Nataku, of course, but... not as surprised as he would have expected. It was as if they'd known there would be **something** strange in the village, just not exactly what or how big. Wufei had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with the other Champion who'd arrived with them, a large human who had immediately taken Uthmar aside and started working out refinements to their plan of attack.

_**Just**__ refinements,_ Wufei thought, watching the man in question amble along with a deceptively slow stride. _He already knew Uthmar's basic plan without being told it. And if I understand Gunnar correctly, they started out from wherever they came from __**before**__ Uthmar and his men got to the village... so how did they know where to go...?_

Maybe Torframos told them.

Wufei squirmed slightly in his seat, swallowing. He got a cold feeling in his throat and stomach whenever he thought about how that deep, rich voice had spoken out of thin air...

_It's not such a startling thing, really,_ he told himself determinedly. _I've already accepted two moons, magic, non-human intelligent races, a link to Nataku, a link to __**Karthan**__... I have to admit, gods who actively interfere in their worshippers' lives fit into this setting quite nicely._

And I've got one of them out to kill me. Wonderful.

Well, if he could do anything directly to me, he would have hit me with a lightning bolt or something by now! Stop worrying about it!

Dragging his thoughts away from the subject of gods with an effort, Wufei went back to studying the new soldiers. Around twenty of them had stayed in the village, but that still left thirty-five to join the assault on the temple. Wufei had to admit, he was favourably surprised by what he saw.

_They're disciplined. They seem professional. They move well- I'll be able to tell more when I see them practice- and they're certainly well armed!_

He snorted to himself as he saw one stocky dwarf who had a double-bladed axe slung on his back. The axe looked like it weighed more than its wielder, but he'd seen the dwarf swing it easily into place with one hand.

_I'd be happier if they had machine guns and rocket launchers, but they seem to have the best of what's available here and now. Cord approved of their weapons, anyway, and __**they**__ seemed quite impressed by the quality of his metalwork, so I'd say that's a testimonial for both sides._

They _**also**__ seem quite comfortable about what they're going into,_ he mused, watching them talk and joke among themselves as they marched. _That isn't the sort of bravado I'd expect among soldiers who've never seen serious combat. They act like seasoned fighters who know what's coming and are confident they can deal with it. I don't think they'll be doing anything stupid._

Feeling a little better about the plan, which called for him to be (relatively) safe inside Nataku while the lay brothers fought on foot- _After all, it's my job to keep any demons that appear __**away**__ from them. The risk isn't distributed as unevenly as it seems at first,_ he told himself- he dialled up the magnification on one screen, zooming in on the small group at the head of the loose column. Cord and Naiya were there, carrying ridiculously large packs without visible strain, chatting to Uthmar and Terrin.

_I wasn't expecting Terrin to come. Cord and Naiya weren't such a surprise- they didn't exactly blend in with the human villagers, so I was already wondering where they come from- but Terrin has family there. Derrin and his wife, nieces and nephews... I think he's lived in that village all his life, but he packed up his belongings and left on a day's notice. I still don't know why! Naiya said she and her father are going back 'home', but they still left friends behind..._

At least they got a chance to say goodbye. If they change their minds, they can turn around and go back. I can't even pick a direction and say 'I come from _**there**__'!_

Abruptly, the silence in the cockpit was too much for Wufei. No battle transmissions, no radio chatter, no surprise calls from a braided maniac to tell him 'You're looking **way** too serious, Wu-man!'. Yanking open the storage compartment beside his seat, he fumbled in Duo's CD bag, pulling out a random disk and sticking it in the slot.

She's Miss California, hottest thing in West L.A.

_Are they even alive? They have to be. The battle was going badly when whatever happened to me happened, but... maybe my disappearance provided enough of a diversion for them to get away? If they could just get clear of that trap, I think- I'm __**sure**__ they'd be able to do all right without me._

I wonder what they're doing right now...

* * * * *

"Damn it, Heero, I am **not** going to be carried down to breakfast! I have crutches and I'm not afraid to use them!"

"On **stairs**?" Heero asked pointedly. "Steep, **narrow** stairs?"

"Steep, narrow stairs that you've already fallen down on twice?" Trowa put in from the doorway.

"Hmph." Duo tried to look stubborn, but was obviously thinking about it. "Well, good point. Er... taxi?" he said sheepishly, raising one finger in the universal taxi-hailing motion.

"Hn." Heero raised an eyebrow and carefully picked Duo up. "You get the crutches," he told Trowa, edging sideways out the door.

Heero carried Duo down the stairs as carefully as if he was made of spun glass. He hesitated at the bottom of the flight, eyeing the length of the hall leading to the kitchen as if he suspected it of harbouring tripwires, but put Duo down and supported him until Trowa handed over the crutches.

"Thanks, Heero," Duo said seriously, meaning more than just 'thanks for getting me downstairs'. _Thanks for putting me down __**here**__ instead of carrying me all the way to the table,_ he continued to himself, setting the crutches under his arms and swinging off towards breakfast. _Thank you for not babying me more than you __**have**__ to._

He had a little trouble turning the corner into the kitchen, swearing mildly as he caught the end of a crutch on the doorframe. Heero's fingers twitched as Duo wobbled, but he managed to restrain himself from lunging forward and grabbing the braided pilot. He **also** managed to refrain from breathing an audible sigh of relief when Duo made it safely to his chair and sat down, leaning the crutches on the wall behind him.

"I want a different set of crutches, guys," Duo announced, scowling at the offending objects. "I mean, these things may be made of the latest ultra-light alloys, blah blah etcetera etcetera, but they're still awkward as hell and they're gonna rub my armpits raw. I want a pair of those elbow crutches."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Trowa shrugged, setting out glasses and getting a bottle of juice out of the fridge.

"Hn." Heero nodded automatically, but his mind went into a brief tailspin. _If Duo gets lighter crutches he'll be moving about more, and that's not good... but he's more likely to have an accident with the long crutches... I can catch him... not all the time, I can't... gah!_ For a moment, unable to work out which option was safer, he seriously considered hacking into hospital files to look for statistics on the number of accidents suffered by patients on long crutches versus elbow crutches.

_No. That is __**stupid**__. Duo's right, they'll be more comfortable for him. He's a Gundam pilot, damn it, he can handle a pair of crutches without me following him around waiting to rescue him!_

So long as I don't startle him off of them, that is.

Quatre triumphantly deposited a stack of pancakes on each plate, and Heero gratefully let himself be distracted by the ensuing competition for butter, syrup and lemon juice.

Putting down the syrup bottle (which promptly vanished and reappeared on Duo's side of the table minus a third of its contents), Quatre paused before picking up his fork. "Guys... I have some news."

"Yes?" Trowa raised an eyebrow; Duo looked up, chewing happily.

"I bought us a house. We're moving in tomorrow."

Duo nearly spat out his mouthful. "Mmf?!" Washing it down with juice, he repeated himself. "Tomorrow?! Quatre, I'm having the damn **operation** tomorrow, in case you forgot! And why are we moving, anyway?!"

"It's closer to the hospital, for when you start physical therapy, and it has two bedrooms on the ground floor."

Heero blinked at **that** idea.

"But **tomorrow**?!"

"I worked it out," Quatre insisted. "Heero will stay at the hospital with you, while Trowa and I move our things in. It's a really nice house, Duo; five bedrooms, three bathrooms, swimming pool, TV room, big garage, everything."

"Is it listed as part of the Winner Estate, so Relena can find us easily?" Trowa asked dryly.

"No, it's not," Quatre informed him, blushing slightly. "I bought it under an alias, through my agent. Officially, we'll be renting it from the 'real' owner."

"Well, can we go see it first?" Duo sighed. "I'd like to at least see it **once** before you guys move me in!"

"You're supposed to be resting today..." Heero objected weakly, trailing off when Duo gave him a 'Look'.

"Today is the last day before I am dragged, kicking and screaming, into surgery. Then they're going to lock me in a mediaeval torture implement, laughingly called a 'brace' by some, and throw away the key. I want to get out and about while I still can!"

"...Okay. When can you be ready?"

"Hell, I'm ready now- well, I will be as soon as I finish eating breakfast," Duo corrected himself.

"You should also put on some pants," Trowa pointed out with a smirk.

Duo blinked, looking down at his fluorescent orange boxers. "Er, yeah... that too. And that reminds me, I need to go shopping! I've got to get some hospital clothes. I wouldn't wear one of those damn gown things when I went in for the checkup, and I'm not going to wear one when I go back. Gundam pilots and terrorists just don't **do** that."

Quatre laughed, and even Heero managed to crack a smile.

- - - - - -

"Whoa. That's **big**," Duo announced, leaning on his crutches and looking up at the new acquisition. "Quatre, I thought you said you bought a house, not a mansion!"

"It **is** a house," Quatre insisted plaintively. "It's only got five bedrooms!"

"Q-man, you need to develop a sense of scale," Duo told him, starting up the driveway.

"If it were a mansion, it would have servants' quarters," Trowa smirked. "Right?"

"Exactly!" the blond nodded; then he saw the smirk. "Trowa! Whose side are you on?"

"Mine."

"Okay, I've picked my bedroom!" Duo called cheerfully from somewhere inside as they entered the front door. "I can wobble right out of the French doors and fall into the pool."

"Duo!" Quatre yelled protestingly, seeing Heero wince.

"What? It'll be a **controlled** fall. It'll save me from having to take a shower in the morning- hey, cool! You didn't mention the hot tub!"

"We're never going to get him out of the water, are we?" Trowa muttered to Heero.

"Judging by his behavior whenever he gets access to a decent size bathtub, no," Heero muttered back. "At least it should be good for his knee."

"I could fit just about **anything** in here," Duo muttered, then raised his voice. "Anyone have a pen and paper? I've got to make a shopping list. We're not bringing all the furniture from the old place, are we?"

"No," Quatre told him, pulling out his notebook and a pen as he walked into the room Duo had chosen. "Just our personal property, and things like the coffee maker and TV and such."

"Cool." Lowering himself carefully to sit on the floor, Duo grinned up at Quatre. "I've got just one question, then."

"Oh?"

"We're supposed to be renting this place, right? How the **hell** are we going to convince the neighbours that four seventeen-year-old boys can afford a place like this?"

"Easy. We dress preppy, and tell them our parents are paying for it while we take a year off before college to 'find ourselves'. You hurt your knee in a skiing accident."

"Quatre... the God of Death does not **do** 'preppy'. I would hazard a guess that Mister Silent and Mister 'Omae o Korosu' **also** do not do 'preppy'."

"Then you can do 'expensive Goth' or 'two thousand credit leather jacket', or whatever you want," Quatre told him, oblivious to the two pilots standing in the doorway behind him mouthing 'Preppy?' at each other. "Whatever you want, so long as it's blatantly expensive. You wanted to go shopping anyway..."

- - - - - -

Five hours later, they dragged themselves back to the old safehouse, festooned with bags and boxes from a dozen exclusive clothing stores. Quatre had gone for 'preppy'- as usual- but the others had concentrated mainly on designer jeans, expensive t-shirts, and the sort of shirts that had no visible logo, but could be identified (and priced) by their exquisite tailoring.

"And when I get out of the hospital, I'm going to take a pair of scissors to some of those pairs of jeans," Duo told Heero as he was carried upstairs. "It ought to convince the neighbours that we have rich parents, if I chop the leg off of a hundred-credit pair of jeans so they'll fit over the brace."

Heero snorted. "Either that, or they'll decide your injury is from being kneecapped after a drug deal went wrong."

"Heero!"

"Well, it **would** be a logical explanation for why four teenagers can afford that sort of house."

"Yeah, whatever." Duo rolled his eyes as Heero carefully set him down and hopped the short distance to his bed, flopping onto it with a groan. "I was right, you know. Those crutches **suck**. I think my arms are going to fall off."

"Does that mean you'll take your pain pills and have a nap without me having to argue with you?" Heero said hopefully.

"Yeah... I am kinda tired," Duo admitted. "Hand 'em over."

Heero produced tablets and a glass of water, and Duo swallowed them, fixing Heero with a glare as he handed the glass back. "**You** should have a rest, too," he said sternly, pointing his finger like a gun. "You carried all of my junk and half of Quatre's, as well as your own, and you walked three times as far as the rest of us because you kept fetching stuff so I didn't have to get up for anything. Don't think I didn't notice!"

"Ryoukai," Heero said, smiling faintly. "Yell if you need anything."

After he left, Duo rolled over onto his side, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape, and gazed moodily across at Wufei's empty bed.

_Today would have been a hell of a lot more fun with Wufei here, ranting about being told to do 'preppy'..._

* * * * *

The column stopped for a rest and a meal just after midday.

_We've made surprisingly good time,_ Wufei thought, checking the distance on the map that was slowly building up in Nataku's computer memory. _Most of them are dwarves, but they all seem to be as good as Uthmar at long-distance walking._

There were two small supply wagons with the column, but nobody had been riding on them; they carried only food and what looked like a large tent. Most of the soldiers were carrying their own personal gear on their backs, not seeming to notice the weight. The five soldiers who weren't were the only ones mounted- two humans on horses, and three dwarves on mules- and they'd covered at least twice as much ground as the rest, acting as scouts.

_Nataku's sensors can probably spot most dangers much further away than they can,_ Wufei told himself, watching on screen as one of the scouts arrived back, dismounting with a flourish while his horse was still moving, _but there's no point in interfering with their routines. They know what they're doing, and I might not recognise a threat, simply because it's unfamiliar._

Well, let's see if there's anything I can help with.

Jumping down from Nataku's open hatch, Wufei scanned the temporary camp, looking for someone who needed a hand. _They __**definitely**__ know what they're doing,_ he noted, watching with approval as they set sentries and checked weapons **before** settling down to rest and eat, occasionally glancing curiously in his direction. _They all have a job to do- ah. I can help with that at least!_

One of the humans was gathering fallen branches from underneath a dead tree, breaking them into manageable lengths for a fire. The wood was well seasoned, dry but definitely not brittle, and he was swearing under his breath as he kicked at a length he'd wedged between the tall stump and a rock.

"I help?"

"Sure, if you think you'll have any better- ah, um, sir! Didn't realise it was you," the soldier said uncomfortably.

Wufei shrugged. "You find, I break?"

"Uh... sure," He stepped aside and waved at the wedged branch. "I already found plenty, but it's-" The rest of the sentence wasn't words that Wufei knew, but they sounded fairly rude.

Hiding a smirk, he leaned forward and tapped the branch, then put a little pressure on it. "Good wood," he nodded.

_*CRACK!*_

"Next?"

There was plenty of firewood by the time the cook was ready to make tea.

Wufei was well aware that all of the newcomers were watching him as he easily snapped branches as thick as his thigh, splitting the pieces lengthwise by getting a good grip on the jagged ends and simply pulling them apart. After all, it was what he would have done in their place- what he **had** been doing, come to think of it. Observe your allies and learn their capabilities, so you know what they can and cannot be depended upon to do in a fight. He nearly laughed out loud as it occurred to him that it was a good thing the cook got the fire started quickly; the soldiers might not have been unsettled by his demonstration of strength, but he doubted they'd remain calm if he lit the fire with Nataku's flamethrower.

- - - - - -

"That's fairly impressive," a calm voice behind Uthmar observed. "Does he do things like that often?"

"Not really," Uthmar shrugged, grinning through his beard. "Unlike **some** people I know, he doesn't do things just to show off."

"I only did it once," the human Champion said in a wounded voice, moving up to stand next to the dwarf. "You're never going to let me forget it, are you?"

"Well, **I** might let the joke die eventually, Arwen," Uthmar chuckled, "but Gunnar saw you summoning your axe to impress those girls, too, and you know what **he's** like."

"It was three years ago!" Arwen protested. "I was still a teenager! I'd been a champion for- what, two months? Don't I get a little leniency for youthful exuberance?"

"Nope. By dwarven standards, you humans are **always** babies. If we gave you leeway on account of youth, we'd have to excuse **everything**."

"Whatever happened to the even-handed generosity, kindness and tolerance that are supposed to be the hallmarks of a true Champion?"

"They take second place to ensuring that my fellow Champions also cultivate the humility that is proper for their station."

"You weren't like this the last time I saw you," Arwen sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "I think Gunnar's been a bad influence on you."

"Actually, I think it was having to deal with Yithar that did it," Uthmar mused, scratching his chin. "I had to find **some** way of coping that didn't involve punching his teeth out."

"He's gone home," Arwen pointed out. "You can stop now."

"No, I can't," the dwarf said quietly, inclining his head fractionally towards a tall, golden-haired human in the uniform of a knight-probationer, standing some distance away and watching Wufei intently. "You brought Sir Vaijon."

Arwen winced. "Sir Terrian assigned him to me. I **had** to bring him."

"What in Torframos's name did you do to deserve that?!"

The other Champion's mouth twisted wryly. "In his infinite wisdom, our honoured Knight-General has decided that serving under a Champion of... how shall I put this... **excruciatingly** humble birth might open Sir Vaijon's eyes and make him realise what's wrong with some of the attitudes he was raised with. I couldn't exactly say no. Well, yes, I know I **could** have said no," he corrected himself, shaking his head, "but 'I don't want to' didn't seem like a good enough reason to refuse."

Uthmar grimaced sympathetically. "Ouch. Is it working?"

"No." Arwen blew out his breath heavily, scowling. "He's always very carefully polite to me, but I can **see** him wondering 'Why him? Why is someone so undeserving a Champion when Torframos could have picked **me**, an Almerhas of Almerhas?'. And he's very quick to step in and deal with nobles for me. I think he thinks he's doing me a favour."

Uthmar grimaced again. "Well... I can't think of anything that'll help. Sorry."

"If he just **meant** to be insulting, we could throw him out of the order," Arwen grumbled. "Unfortunately, he genuinely does want to do good in the world. There's a decent person buried somewhere under all that horseshit about ancestry and tradition and birthright."

"Actually... having Wufei around might be good for him," Uthmar said slowly.

"Oh? How so?"

"Wufei is a prince, better born than Vaijon, and his attitudes towards rank and privilege couldn't be more different. Vaijon never forgets his rank; Wufei didn't think his was important enough to mention, until I asked. Vaijon automatically judges people by their birth first, and won't break the rules about who outranks who; Wufei used superior-to-inferior language on Lord Yithar, then turned around and used speaking-to-equals mode to Goodman Royce. If Vaijon pays more attention to Wufei's birth than the fact that he's a demon- and he might, especially once he finds out that Torframos confirmed Wufei's rank- he'll automatically give Wufei's opinions more weight than his own."

"And Wufei's opinion will be that he **shouldn't**...?" Arwen started to grin. "They're really not going to get along, are they?"

"Nope."

"At least it should be fun to watch."

- - - - - -

After marching on foot through the afternoon, they stopped for the night in a shallow, bowl-shaped dip in the land, sheltered from the breeze (and also concealing the light of their fires from any observers). This time, Wufei insisted on getting firewood alone; with Karthan's help he managed to explain that he was the only person who hadn't been walking or riding all day, and therefore it was only fair for him to handle the heavier camp chores. A couple of soldiers tried to argue, but the two Champions just looked at each other, smirked slightly, and nodded.

_There's something going on there,_ Wufei mused, walking back to camp with a load of wood, _but I can't work out what. They seemed pleased that I'm willing to do my share, but it's only common sense!_ Dropping the wood with the rest of the branches he'd gathered, he nodded to the cook and picked up two buckets. On his way back out, he passed one of the mounted scouts, nodding politely as the blond human stared at him. _Whatever it is, I doubt it's anything to worry about. Now, which direction was that stream in?_

A moment's concentration, and Nataku's map shimmered in front of him. Little moving symbols indicated the soldiers in the camp, scouts further out, and a few small animals in the forest to the west. A thin blue line marked the location of a stream coming out of the Spinewall, and Wufei headed in that direction.

_That's incredibly useful, but I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it!_

The stream was clear and fresh, and surprisingly cold; Wufei filled his buckets and then took the opportunity to wash his face and neck, gasping as an icy trickle went down his back under his shirt. Wiping his face dry on one arm, he turned back to pick up the buckets, smiling. _Refreshing... I think I will come back with a towel and bathe properly after I deliver this-_

"Good evening, Chang Wufei," a deep voice said from behind him. In **Chinese**.

He dropped the buckets and spun around, automatically snatching his sword from its sheath on his back. Standing across the stream where there had been nothing an instant before was a man, a human with wavy brown hair pulled back in a tail, handsome face slightly spoiled by his arrogant smile-

- -ten feet tall- -

- -and glowing faintly red.

Wufei backed up a few steps to get better footing, tightening his grip on the sword. "Who the hell are you?!" he snarled.

The arrogant smile widened slightly. "Pleased to meet you, too. My name is Krashnark."


	20. Chapter 19

"My name is Krashnark." The ten-foot-tall, faintly glowing 'man' allowed his arrogant smile to widen slightly, obviously expecting a reaction.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Wufei asked acidly, sword still up in a ready position.

The smile lost some of its arrogance for a moment, then twisted into a sneer. "I see Torframos' little pet dwarf hasn't told you much, if you don't even recognise the name of the God of War."

"We've had more important things to discuss." Wufei's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't flinch. _I upset him by not reacting the way he wanted me to. Good._ "I had worked out that you were probably a god. The light show is a little clichéd."

He watched as Krashnark bristled, obviously not handling the idea that a mere mortal would even consider talking back in that manner well. Most of Wufei's thought processes were concentrated on what to do and say- 'keep him off balance' and 'what would **Duo** do?' were his two main ideas there- while a tiny corner of his mind stood off and observed, amazed that he wasn't gibbering in shock.

_I don't have __**time**__ to gibber. I can do that later... if I __**have**__ a later. I know Uthmar said the gods can't interfere directly in the world, but if that's true, what is he __**doing**__ here?!_

I wish I could ask- wait a minute. I _**can**__._

KARTHAN!

"I was under the impression that gods weren't allowed to do things like this," Wufei continued, a tiny circling motion of his sword tip indicating their surroundings. "Doesn't this count as 'interference'?"

- - - - - -

Back at camp, Karthan was giving an informal report to the two Champions and Gunnar.

"-so we actually made slightly more ground than we planned for. The camp is completely- _*gnnnh!*_"

"Karthan?! Karthan, what's wrong?!" Uthmar grabbed at his arm, holding him upright as his knees threatened to buckle. "Karthan!"

"Is it a brainstorm?" Arwen moved quickly to take the dwarf's other side, peering into his wide, unfocussed eyes. He'd seen an old woman die from a stroke once, and this **almost** looked like another, but-

"Wufei's in trouble," Karthan gasped, eyes flicking from side to side as he looked at something nobody else could see. "**Serious** trouble! Can't you two **feel** anything? He's talking to Krashnark right now!"

- - - - - -

"I suppose you could think of it that way," Krashnark replied cooly, getting himself back under control with a visible effort. "Technically, it's not, since I have no intention of actually harming you."

_That does __**not**__ make me feel better about this._ "I'm sure you'll excuse me if I don't drop my sword, even so."

The arrogant smile returned. "Why should I mind? It's not as if you could do me any harm with it."

"You might be surprised. Let me see now..." Wufei tilted his head slightly to one side, making a show of frowning in thought. "You're arrogant, it doesn't sound as if you like Torframos, you're violating the spirit of the noninterference law if not the letter, and you either didn't realise or didn't care that you just insulted me. Hmmm. I wouldn't happen to be speaking to the **Dark** God of War, would I?"

"They haven't even told you that there isn't a Light God of War?!" Krashnark looked genuinely surprised for a moment, then thoughtful. "Well, Korthrala has the title, but he spends most of his time and energy taking care of his other areas of responsibility. I'm the only **true** God of War." A sly smile. "Perhaps they didn't tell you because they didn't want a magnificent warrior like you choosing to serve the other side?"

"Compared to some of the people I've had trying to mind-fuck me, that little attempt at subversion didn't even rate," Wufei said crudely, and had the satisfaction of seeing the god stiffen. _I think Duo would be proud of me. Thank you Kushrenada, thank you Une; the lessons I learned from you are suddenly extremely useful._ "Pick something more plausible next time. There **is** the small problem of a language barrier that keeps them from explaining things to me- speaking of which, how is it that you're speaking to me in Chinese?"

"I'm not. You only think I am," Krashnark said in a tight, controlled voice. "A god must be able to make himself understood to all of his worshippers, after all."

"If you want me to worship you," Wufei growled, tightening his grip on his sword, "you are **definitely** going about it the wrong way."

Krashnark's words weren't particularly sophisticated- it had been almost a childish attempt to plant doubts, Wufei thought- but somehow he'd sounded so **reasonable** for a moment. _Whatever he's doing, he wasn't doing it when he was visibly angry. Perhaps he has to be calm to use it, or at least controlled...? Making him angry might be a __**very**__ stupid idea, but the noninterference rule seems to be real enough, and Uthmar and Arwen are coming..._

Besides, it might be the only way I can keep him from convincing me that he's right! Duo's lines, Duo's lines, keep thinking of what Duo would say- insolence seems to upset him most-

"So," Wufei said, almost conversationally, "you're a Dark god. Good for you; somebody's got to watch over all the people who belong under wet rocks. I **do** know of another Dark god with an interest in me, you know. Sharna."

"Oh?" Krashnark's lip curled. "That would be my brother." The red glow around him intensified for a moment.

"Did he send you down here to run errands for him?"

- - - - - -

"Gunnar, Karthan, go back to camp **now**!" Uthmar snarled, running beside Arwen as fast as he could move in armour. "Naiya, you too!"

"No!" Naiya yelled, running just out of his reach. "Wufei saved my life! I'm not going to abandon him when he's in trouble!"

"Damn it, that's an **order**! You're talking about walking up and defying a **god**!"

"Exactly. Going back to camp now isn't going to save me if something happens," Naiya retorted. Gunnar and Karthan saved their breath for running and let her do the arguing. "Besides, if he harmed us that would be direct interference. What **can** he do?"

Anger blasted outwards from the small copse of trees they were running towards, a feeling of rage and power that was almost visible. It lay over Naiya like a smothering blanket, bearing down, trying to force her to her knees-

Her vision cleared as the pressure lightened slightly, and she realised that she was cowering, hands raised to protect her head. The two Champions were still upright, but had stopped running and were squinting ahead as if they were looking into the sun.

"He can do **that**," Arwen said quietly.

- - - - - -

"My worthless little **toad** of a brother? **Errands**?!" The power radiating from Krashnark was beating at Wufei, burning at his mind and will, and he could almost hear a voice screaming at him to submit as the god took a long step forward, across the narrow stream.

_- -kneel bow worship- -_

_He's a __**god**__, you don't defy __**gods**__, they give commands and you obey!_ The tip of Wufei's sword dropped, just an inch.

_- -submit obey kneel- -_

"That fool wants to kill you," Krashnark snorted. "I want you to **serve** me. Give yourself over to my cause, and I'll give you battles worthy of your skill!"

_- -grovel- -_

Wufei froze, mind clearing slightly. "...Battles?"

"Yes! As my Champion you'll be even stronger than you are now. Compared to you, the Light gods' Champions will be weak, useless, easily defeated!"

_- -grovel- -_

"The weak shouldn't fight," Wufei whispered.

Krashnark laughed, grinning triumphantly. "Not if they want to live. Kneel and swear fealty to me, and-"

Wufei's sword came around in a wild, inaccurate swing, arcing past the god's startled face, and he automatically jerked back out of range. _Stupid!_ he thought, angry at himself. _I reacted as if he could actually do damage!_

Then he realised that Wufei's eyes were beginning to glow.

"The weak shouldn't fight," Wufei repeated, voice growing stronger. "The weak shouldn't **have** to fight, because it's the duty of the strong to fight **for** them!"

Krashnark took another step back as shadowy armour started to flicker into view around the small human/demon. He could feel power gathering, turning his own power aside, and now Wufei's sword was beginning to glow as well-

_Damn,_ he thought, anger and arrogance draining away to leave him feeling merely tired. _This didn't go at all how I intended._

"I don't wish to fight you," he said quietly. "I **can't** harm you, you know that."

"We could always find out if **I** can hurt **you**," Wufei suggested, lunging forward. The glowing figure vanished and Wufei's sword stabbed into nothing; he swore, falling back into a defensive stance and staying alert, turning slowly to scan his surroundings.

=*I didn't intend to anger you,*= Krashnark's voice continued, coming out of thin air. =*I certainly didn't intend to insult you. I... apologise.*= The word sounded as if it had to squeeze out between his teeth, but it was said, and Wufei blinked in surprise.

"Whether you intended it or not, you did it," he said sharply, wary of another possible attempt to influence his mind.

=*I **intended** to greet you, give you a gift, and let you think about it for a while,*= Krashnark finished. =*It may now be harder to convince you to serve me, but I haven't given up. So... here.*=

His hand reached out of nowhere, right in front of Wufei's face, and touched him lightly on the forehead before he could react. There was a sudden, sharp pain behind his eyes, then everything went black.

* * * * *

Heero had told Duo he'd take a nap after the shopping trip, so he did... but he hadn't said he'd get a reasonable amount of sleep that night. Instead, after everyone else went to bed, he started looking up medical databases.

_This is stupid,_ he told himself, hacking into a major hospital's records and looking up statistics on knee operations. _Dr. Modi explained the operation and all the possible complications, so I don't __**need**__ to look that data up. Duo wants new crutches, and I'm certainly not going to tell him 'no', so looking up statistics on how safe elbow crutches are compared to full-length ones isn't going to change anything... and if he finds out I'm doing this, he'll probably be annoyed at me. So why __**am**__ I doing this?_

Because I'm an idiot, that's why, he told himself sourly, following a link to a collection of case studies. _A paranoid, obsessed, anal-retentive idiot who can't- eh? What's this?_

The case studies listed all had short summaries on the index page, and one noted 'patient recovery rate increased noticeably after purchase of custom-made crutches'. Heero went for **that** one first. Twenty seconds later, he had the URL for the homepage of the company concerned; two minutes after reaching the site, he knew the proper name for 'elbow crutches' was 'forearm crutches', that most people with decent upper body strength found them easier to use, and that they were available in a wide variety of colours, designs and finishes.

"Now **this** is the sort of thing Duo would like," he muttered, eyeing a picture of a silver-and-black pair of crutches with what looked like racing stripes running down the shaft.

- - - - - -

At five-thirty AM, Quatre yawned his way into the kitchen and started making coffee. _We have to get Duo into the hospital by seven, so that gives us an hour to get everyone up and ready to go,_ he thought blearily, watching the coffeemaker as it began to make gurgling noises. _Normally, that wouldn't be any problem, but Duo's not going to like having to do without his usual three coffees with breakfast... And he __**really**__ won't like going without __**breakfast**__._

And that's odd. The way Heero's been acting lately, I would have expected him to be up by now, and getting ready...

He found Heero slumped over the desk in his room, in front of his laptop. _What's so important that he'd fall asleep in his chair trying to finish it?_ Quatre wondered, carefully tiptoeing across the floor. _If that's a spreadsheet titled 'Mission: Duo' or anything like that, I swear I'm going to wake him up by breaking another laptop, only this time I'll smash it over his __**head**__-_

Peering suspiciously at the screen, Quatre blinked, then smiled. _Not 'Mission: Duo' material,_ he mused, sneaking out as quietly as he'd entered. _More like 'Show Duo I Really Care' material. It looks like he's really learning!_

The second time Quatre entered the room, he was walking normally and carrying a large mug of coffee. Heero blinked awake as the mug clacked down next to his head, and would have jerked upright if sudden muscle spasms hadn't stopped him after moving less than an inch.

"That didn't look like a comfortable position to be sleeping in," Quatre observed, watching as Heero slowly levered himself off the desk to the accompaniment of several loud cracking noises. "Got a crick in your back?"

"Substitute 'several' for 'a' and you'd be closer to the truth," Heero gritted out, managing not to groan out loud. He was more surprised that he'd managed not to snap back a rude retort to Quatre's mildly sarcastic comment; the wonderful smell reaching him from the mug probably had something to do with it. "...Thanks for the coffee," he muttered.

"You're welcome," Quatre muttered back, on his way out of the room.

The three other pilots had decided between themselves that it was probably best to let Duo sleep through breakfast, since he couldn't have any, and Heero was pretty sure that Duo hadn't set his alarm... so he was rather surprised when he knocked quietly on Duo's door and peeked in to find that the braided teenager was already awake and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly out the window.

_Shit, he looks depressed..._ Without really thinking about it, Heero found himself climbing onto the bed behind Duo and gently pulling him backwards to lean against his chest, carefully wrapping his arms around him in a loose hug. "Ready to go?" he asked quietly.

One hand came up to rest on his as Duo took a deep breath and shrugged, forcing a small smile. "Well, I'm **packed**," he said wryly. "I don't know that I'm ready, but sitting here isn't going to make me any readier!"

Heero tightened the embrace for just a second before releasing him and standing up. "I'd be willing to bet that you're tougher than anyone else Dr. Modi's done this operation on," he said awkwardly, looking around for Duo's crutches. "You'll be fine."

"...I've never had an operation before, you know," Duo said quietly, fiddling with the end of his braid.

"Hn?" Heero bit back an automatic 'Sure you have', and thought about it for a moment. _I don't know of any since I've met him... and from what I know of his past, he would have been very lucky to get one if he needed it..._ "Really?"

"Yeah. Plenty of stitches, a few broken bones and stuff, sure, and I've had a few bullets dug out of me, but no honest-to-god, general anaesthetic, lie-down-on-the-table-please-sir genuine **surgery**. I mean, I've still got my appendix, for crying out loud. Tonsils, too."

Heero was silent for a moment, struggling to think of a response, and Duo sighed. "Pass the crutches, would you?"

"...I don't."

"Huh?"

"I don't have my appendix or tonsils," Heero told him. "Dr. J decided they were a possible liability, so about half-way through my training I had surgery to remove them."

It was Duo's turn to be silent for a while; then, "What's it like?"

"Unsettling," Heero admitted, sitting down next to him. "I didn't like the idea of being in such a vulnerable position, even though I was among allies, and after I woke up I was fairly uncoordinated for a while. So, no, it wasn't an experience I'd care to repeat, but... Sally wouldn't have recommended this hospital if she thought it was dangerous, and..." His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "And you won't be alone. I promise."

Before Duo could respond, Heero had bounced up from the bed, face reddening. "I'll get your bag and crutches downstairs first," he muttered quickly, grabbing them up and heading for the door.

"Oi! Heero!"

"Yeah?" He paused, not looking back, knowing he was blushing.

"...Thanks."

* * * * *

Relena always dealt with the early mail delivery at breakfast, and today when she came downstairs, there was a large special delivery package sitting on top of the neat stack next to her plate.

"Good morning, Miss Relena," Pargan said, lifting the silver coffeepot as she approached. "Would you prefer scrambled eggs, or-"

"Hold breakfast for a while, please, Pargan," she said absently, walking straight past him to pick up the package. "I'll be in my study if there are any urgent messages."

"...Certainly, Miss Relena," he said to her back as she hurried away.

Safely in her study with the door locked behind her, Relena found a pair of scissors and got the package open, breath hissing between her teeth in exasperation as the tough plastic resisted the attack. Finally, she had a stack of computer printouts and photocopies, two data disks and a cover letter from the private investigator.

'Miss,' it began, 'despite the elapsed time since the subject left L2, I was able to find a surprising amount of people who remembered him. His appearance is distinctive, and it seems he tends to make an impression- good or bad- on everyone who meets him. As previously suggested, I was also able to find numerous references to the subject in law enforcement records.

'Due to these circumstances, I find myself able to present my preliminary report sooner than expected. My bill for services rendered to date is enclosed; please inform me soonest if you require further inquiries to be made.'

Hands shaking slightly, Relena began leafing through the printouts.

L2's police had apparently first noticed Duo when he was only four or five years old, as a member of a gang of street children. Relena scanned the investigator's summary attached to that printout and frowned, pushing it to one side. _Nothing worse than minor shoplifting and public nuisance complaints,_ she thought, reaching for the next document. _Heero wouldn't care._

The next document was just as disappointing. _Copies of orphanage records... useless! All right, he wasn't adopted, but I can't exactly tell Heero 'Nobody __**else**__ wanted him, so why should you?'_ Relena fumed, tossing it aside. _I need something he __**did**__, something unforgivable-_

The second section of Duo's police file, reopened after the Maxwell Church orphanage was destroyed, was more detailed. _No convictions... not even any arrests, but look at all these reports!_ she thought, flicking past the summary page and thumbing through the inch thich printout. _'Suspicion of theft'. 'Suspicion of juvenile soliciting'. 'Known associate of gang members'. __**Another**__ 'suspicion of juvenile soliciting'... and another... I need more than just suspicion!_ Tiring of squinting at the small print on the poor quality printouts, Relena turned back to the summary page. _Is there anything concrete in here?_

'During this period, the subject would undoubtedly have been arrested several times if the local law enforcement personnel were genuinely interested in doing their jobs,' the summary began. 'Several retired police officers remember the subject as a regular source of bribes to prevent either his arrest or the arrest of members of the child gang he protected (see interview records #3-7 on disk 2). The gang appears to have been supported on the proceeds of the subject's thefts and occasional prostitution (see related medical file on disk 1)..."

Still reading the summary page, Relena grabbed one of the disks without really looking at it, feeding it into her computer.

'...I was able to locate a previous member of this gang, now living in a charity orphanage...'

The computer beeped as it opened the only file on the disk, and Relena glanced up at the screen, frowning as she realised she'd grabbed the wrong one. _No, that's the medical data- I want the interview records first-_ She snatched up the other disk, impatiently opening its protective case, automatically reading another line of the summary as her eyes panned across it.

'...subject reportedly refused to allow other members of the gang to solicit, insisting it was too dangerous...'

Disk in hand, Relena looked back at the screen just as the first clinical photograph popped up.

_Oh my GOD..._

A younger Duo, perhaps twelve years old, was lying naked on a hospital bed, glaring defiantly into the camera out of the one eye that would still open. His body was covered with bruises and bleeding welts, one knee visibly swollen, and even with all the damage it was obvious that he was far too thin.

One hand over her mouth, Relena fumbled for the mouse to close the document, but missed the proper button and only succeeded in scrolling down. That got the photograph away from her horrified gaze, but brought up the 'initial evaluation' section of the file. Random words and phrases met her eyes.

'...moderate to severe trauma...' '...beaten...' '...brought in as a charity case by three other juveniles, approximate age 6-8 years...' '...sexual assault...' '...ample evidence of previous injuries...'

The cold official jargon only slipped in the field marked 'Other Comments'. 'Hooking to get food money, picked the wrong john and didn't even get paid. Won't be the last time. I've tried to get kids like him into government programs before, but as soon as they get a sniff of prostitution, nobody'll touch them...'

Relena wrenched her eyes away and stabbed at the keyboard, managing to close the file on her second try. Breathing heavily, she looked at the stack of papers, at the disk still clutched in her hand, thought about the use she'd intended to put them to... and suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

_What am I __**doing**__?!_

- - - - - -

The high pitched shriek of a smoke detector brought Pargan to the study door. "Miss Relena? Miss Relena, is everything all right?"

The lock clicked, and she opened the door. "Quite all right, Pargan," she said, face pale but composed. "I'm just... taking care of a problem. Could you turn off the smoke alarm, please?"

"Ah... certainly, Miss Relena, but what...?" Looking over her shoulder, his eyes widened as he saw the small fire in the grate of the fireplace. Most of the smoke eddying into the room seemed to be coming from two melting data disks. "I'll get the fire extinguisher-"

"No!" Relena snapped, then controlled herself. "No," she repeated softly. "Let it burn."

"But Miss Relena, the fireplaces are only ornamental now," he protested. "The chimneys were all blocked for security reasons years ago! The smoke has nowhere to go!"

"I'm aware of that, Pargan, but it can't be helped. Please just disable the alarm."

"Yes, Miss Relena," he sighed, beginning to climb onto the desk as she sat in front of the fireplace, turning the burning paper over with a metal ruler to make sure it was all destroyed.

The 'reset' button on the smoke alarm wouldn't be of any use with all the smoke still in the air, Pargan knew, so he disconnected the power supply and backup battery. _Hopefully, the air-conditioning system will draw it out of the room instead of letting it out into the hall to set off the __**other**__ alarms,_ he sighed to himself. _It does seem to be drawing it into the vents..._ "Miss Relena?"

"Yes, Pargan?"

"You **could** have placed that in the classified waste bag to be destroyed."

"I know, Pargan."

"So... if I may ask..."

"This was just something I needed to do myself," Relena said quietly, crushing the last blackened sheet of paper into ashes.

* * * * *

"If you'll just get changed, we can start the drip for your pre-op medication," the nurse smiled, handing Duo a neatly folded patient gown. "Do you need any assistance?"

"Nah; if I have a problem, one of the guys can help," Duo told her, then he cleared his throat and looked pointedly from her to the door.

"Oh! Well, I'll be back in about ten minutes to start your drip," she said brightly, walking out.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Duo balled up the gown and threw it across the room, dropping it neatly into a rubbish bin. "Gimme the shirt."

Heero reached into the duffle bag at his feet and pulled out Duo's evil smiley-face boxers and an oversized white t-shirt. "Good thing we found that custom print shop yesterday," he commented, smirking as he passed them over.

"I would've thought of something else if we hadn't," Duo grinned, shaking the t-shirt out and admiring the printed slogan. 'Patient gown? We don't NEED no #~%ing patient gown!'

"I can see that you're going to be a **very** popular patient," Trowa chuckled.

"Hey, my physical therapist is going to **love** me," Duo growled, starting to get changed. "Everybody else can just cut me a little slack or face the consequences."

"I'm not going to ask what those consequences are," Quatre sighed. "I'd rather not be an accessory before the fact."

"You guys don't need to hang around," Duo muttered, concentrating on undoing his bootlaces. "I mean, you need to start moving our stuff, and I'm going to be doped up in a few minutes anyway, so..."

"Well... okay," Quatre said reluctantly. "We'll be back this afternoon, after you're awake, okay?"

"Yeah. See you."

"It also means we get clear before the nurse comes back," Trowa pointed out, leaning over to give Duo a quick hug. "Break a leg," he added, straight-faced.

"Get outta here!" Duo laughed, half-heartedly swatting at him with the thin pillow from the gurney.

Thirty minutes later, after a heated argument with the nurse over the patient gown (which Duo won with Dr. Modi's assistance), he was starting to drift off. The first dose of sedative had taken effect, a different nurse had come in to inject a second dose into the drip line, and everything was starting to go fuzzy around the edges.

"I hate sedatives," Duo mumbled, eyes drifting closed. "Make m'mouth all furry... an' I don't like knowing I can't wake up..."

"I know," Heero said, and Duo felt him take hold of his hand. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"I know," Duo sighed, feeling his mouth curve into an involuntary smile. "Y'promised..."

* * * * *

The first thing Wufei was aware of was the worst headache he'd ever had in his life, a dagger of pain stabbing straight across from one temple to the other every time his heart beat. The next thing to filter through was that he was lying on his back with his head on something soft and his sword hilt clenched in his hand, so tightly that his fingers were beginning to cramp.

The third thing to come to his awareness was a voice.

"If he isn't hurt, why isn't he waking up?"

"I said he didn't **seem** hurt, Naiya," Uthmar's voice replied; he sounded strained, as if he was worried, but trying to keep sounding calm. "There's no trace of Krashnark's power left on him, but that doesn't mean he didn't do anything."

"What in the name of all the hells happened to the whole thing about gods not being allowed to interfere?!"

"Don't **shout**," Wufei groaned, one hand going up to press at his forehead. It didn't help the headache, but at least that way he could be reasonably sure the front half of his head wasn't going to separate from the back.

"Are you all right?" Karthan's voice broke in. Wufei risked opening one eye a crack, and made out five dark shapes bending over him, silhouetted against a dazzlingly bright sky. "What happened?"

"That's what **I** was going to ask," the Chinese teen mumbled. "Uh... I think... I made him mad."

"Ooops," Gunnar commented.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Tried to fight him, but he just vanished... then he apologised for insulting me..."

Five voices made startled noises, and the silhouettes shifted as if they were looking at each other. "**That's** not usual," Arwen said dubiously.

"Surprised me, too," Wufei grunted, blinking. The dazzle seemed to be clearing up, and unless it was just wishful thinking, he thought the headache was fading slightly. "He said he'd intended to give me a gift... then he reached out of nowhere and touched me," he finished, waving his hand at his forehead in a vague illustration of what he meant, before going back to holding his head together. "That's all."

"He said he wanted to give you a **gift**?" Naiya asked, puzzled. "What sort of gift?"

"No idea," Wufei would have shrugged, but another trickle of situational awareness made it through the headache. _My head's in Naiya's lap?! Uh..._ Not sure how to react to that, he settled for ignoring it until later. "All I know is that I have a massive headache."

"Er... Wufei," Karthan said slowly, "I don't think our link's open right now..."

"It isn't," he agreed, after a moment of concentration.

"So... how can you be speaking Spearman so fluently?"

Wufei squinted at him for a moment, bemused; then his eyes opened wide as he thought back and abruptly realised that according to his memory, the entire conversation had been in Chinese.

_"...how is it that you're speaking to me in Chinese?"_

"I'm not. You only think I am. A god must be able to make himself understood..."

"Somebody say something in another language," he snapped, levering himself up into a seated position, headache or no headache.

"Uh... it's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Naiya said. Now that he was concentrating, Wufei could hear that it was a different language- rather musical, he thought- but he understood it as well as if it had been his native tongue. And now that he thought about it...

"Yes, it is, if I ignore the fact that my head is trying to fall apart," he replied in the same language. "What am I speaking now?"

"Hurgrumese," Naiya told him, eyes wide. "Like a native."

"Right. That makes it fairly clear," he said, switching back to Spearman. "He gave me the Gift of Tongues, or something similar, and a massive headache. Remind me to put him on my Christmas card list!"


	21. Chapter 20

Duo drifted up out of unconsciousness, slowly gathering the strength to open his eyes. He was feeling strangely heavy, and everything except his right hand was chilled...

"...not likely to wake up for at least half an hour," he heard, echoing as if it was coming from the bottom of a well. "Would you like to take a break? The visitors' waiting room is quite comfortable, and you can get something to eat."

"No," Heero's voice replied, and the warmth cradling Duo's hand shifted. "I'd rather wait here."

"Really, sir, there's no need for you to be here while he's still under the anaesthetic. At least take a short walk to stretch your legs!"

"No," he repeated, politely but firmly. "Thank you, but I'm staying here."

"He promised," Duo mumbled through what seemed to be a mouthful of cotton wool.

"Duo? Are you awake?" Heero's voice was suddenly closer, and there was a surprised exclamation from the other person in the room.

"Izzit over?"

"Yeah." Calloused fingertips gently stroked over Duo's forehead and through his fringe. "All done."

"Good. M'thirsty..."

"Here," the other person said, apparently recovering from the shock of having Duo wake up early. "Just a few sips, until we're sure your stomach hasn't reacted badly to the anaesthetic, all right?"

Duo managed to open his eyes a little as he sipped cool water through a straw, and blinked fuzzily at the slightly out-of-focus faces of Heero and a nurse, both watching him intently. The nurse smiled a bit sheepishly as she took the glass away, and patted him on the shoulder. "My apologies, Mr. Maxwell; I was sure you were going to be asleep for a while yet, and I was trying to drag your friend away for a break. Luckily he knows better than me, hmm?"

"I know **Duo**," Heero muttered, managing a crooked grin. "I'd listen to you if it was anyone else, but Duo always manages to surprise people."

"Smart guy," Duo told her, squinting slightly and feeling a mild surge of triumph as he managed to bring them into focus. "He's been payin' attention lately."

"That's always a good thing," she chuckled, checking his pulse. "Mm-hmm... are you feeling up to raising your head a bit?"

"Dunno. Less' find out."

A few seconds spent fiddling with the bed's controls later, the head of the bed had lifted up about twenty degrees, and Heero was helping the nurse rearrange Duo's pillows behind him. "How's that?"

"Feels all right," Duo said, shifting experimentally and looking curiously at the long bulge under the covers where a frame was keeping them off his leg. "M'sorta fuzzy-headed, but thass' going- ulp!" A queer expression crossed his face, and he swallowed hard. Before Heero could work out what was happening, the nurse had whipped a paper cup in front of Duo's mouth and was steadying him as the water came back up.

_Shit!_ Automatically, Heero clutched at Duo's hand again, quickly assessing his vital signs. _No blood in the vomit- - colour's good- - temperature's OK- - pupils dilated but tracking- - he's coherent- - It's just a drug reaction. That's all!_ His heart slowly settled back into its proper place as Duo stopped heaving and blinked, looking confused.

"Whoa," he muttered, pressing one hand to his stomach. "Thass' weird. I don' **feel** sick..."

"About thirty percent of the population react that way to this anaesthetic," the nurse said comfortingly, handing Heero the vomit cup and taking Duo's pulse again, then making a note on a datapad. "Most people's stomachs settle down in under ten minutes. If you still can't keep water down after half an hour, or if it gets uncomfortable, I'll give you something to fix it, all right?"

"Sounds fair t'me," he agreed, still rubbing his stomach. "Can I have 'nother blanket?"

"Feeling cold?" When he nodded, she frowned slightly and felt his forehead, then his hands. "There's extra blankets in the cupboard, but I think this is another side effect, sorry. It won't make much difference." She still got him the blankets, though.

- - - - - -

Twenty minutes later, Heero was nearly frantic. Duo was thirsty and dry-mouthed, so he kept taking sips of water, and then bringing them straight back up. The only thing stopping Heero from charging out into the corridor, grabbing the first nurse or doctor he saw, and demanding that they **do something** to fix this was Duo's repeated assurance that it wasn't a problem.

"I don't feel sick or anything," he insisted, pulling the blankets back up around his shoulders and shivering. "Normally throwing up makes my stomach hurt, but not this time. It's like everything is working just fine, except that anything I swallow gets stamped 'no such address' and returned to sender."

"By express courier," Heero said, trying to smile in response.

"'When it absolutely, positively has to get out of there NOW'," Duo quipped, imitating an ad's voice-over, "'use HurlMail and'- ulp!"

Heero got the vomit cup in place and sighed, shaking his head. "I think that was tempting fate just a **little** too far, Duo."

* * * * *

Relena lingered at the breakfast table long after she would normally have left for her office at the Ministry, picking at the cold food on her plate and ignoring the stack of mail still waiting to be read.

"Is everything all right, Miss Relena?" Pargan eventually asked, beginning to be seriously worried.

"...I don't know," she said quietly, putting her fork down and standing up.

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I, Pargan. That's the problem." She began to turn away, then looked back at him. "I don't have any appointments or meetings today, do I?"

"No, Miss Relena, you do not."

"Good. I won't be going into the office today, Pargan; please let my secretary know."

"Certainly, Miss Relena. Will you be going anywhere else?" he inquired, smoothly passing her to open the door.

"I haven't decided yet. That will be all for now, thank you."

Normally, when Relena needed to think, she would close herself off in her study; but the scent of burnt plastic and smoke was still too strong, and a maid was busily cleaning ashes out of the ornamental fireplace. Relena's search for privacy took her out into the garden, to a quiet spot with a bench to sit on, where she began to examine her own motives for the first time in years.

_I preach pacifism and tolerance,_ she thought, looking at the beautiful view in front of her without seeing it. _I tell people to be kind to each other. Two days ago, I even did a live broadcast to the entire Earth sphere, saying that we can all get along peacefully despite our different backgrounds... and yet I was willing to ruin Duo's life by raking up the worst parts of __**his**__ background, because I want what he's got._

I have everything. He has almost nothing. And I'm still jealous.

And what am I jealous of? Heero's in love with him.

So... I was willing to ruin _**Heero's**__ life too, wasn't I?_ she suddenly realised, eyes widening. _I love... no. I kept __**telling**__ myself I loved Heero, but I never once considered that if he loves Duo - and he __**does**__, I saw it so clearly - then the best thing I could do for him would be to leave them alone!_

_**Do**__ I love Heero?! I've believed that for two years, but..._

Slowly, Relena thought back over all the times she'd spoken to Heero. What he'd said back. The way he acted. How they'd met...

_...I never really listened to him, did I? I never paid attention. I hung on his arm, and watched his every move, and memorised every expression... I told him everything I thought and wanted, and I assumed that of __**course**__ he agreed with me, but... I never asked. He'd look at me as if I was stupid, sometimes. I memorised that expression! And I never, not even for a second, stopped to think that __**maybe**__ that expression meant he really __**did**__ think I was stupid!_

That's not love. That's blind obsession.

I met him in an incredibly dramatic way, and I fixated on him. All the things I've hoped for since, the plans I've made for the future, how he'd finally be able to let down his masks and admit he loved me... I made all of that up inside my head, and never thought to find out if my plans had any resemblance to reality. I never even thought of consulting Heero to find out what _**he**__ thought, because I was so sure I was right. I've been viewing everything to do with Heero through my own set of warped assumptions, and never realised just how far it's twisted my own behaviour._

I'm a pacifist, but I told Heero it was all right to kill someone, because he was trying to kill Heero. If it had been anyone else, I would have tried to make them both stop... I would have said nobody should die... but he was threatening _**Heero**__, so that made it all right for him to be killed._

I think of Quatre as good, because Heero respects him. I think of Duo as bad, because the first time I met him, he shot Heero...

...defending me.

Now, that is _**monumentally**__ stupid._

Relena dropped her head into her hands, shaking as the full impact hit her. _Duo saved my life. I should have been grateful. I should have thought of him as some sort of hero... but I hated him, because he shot Heero. He wounded Heero to save my __**life**__, and I made him into the bad guy!_

And I kept chasing after Heero. I was still convinced that we were in love! He pulled a _**gun**__ on me, and it didn't shake my fixation a bit!_

What is _**wrong**__ with me?!_

If I'd met Duo first... would I have fixated on him instead? Would I have cheered him on when he shot Heero? Would I be digging into Heero's past to find something to use against him? Or Quatre... if I'd met _**him**__ first, would I hate Trowa now? What about Wufei? If I'd fixated on him, would it have survived the sort of cold politeness he could turn on when he didn't like someone?_

Probably. He used it on me often enough and I just ignored it.

So what do I really want? Am I so desperate for love that I'll invent it when it doesn't turn up on cue?

...No. Not love, she decided. _I wanted Heero, and I told myself it was love, because that fit all the stereotypes and stories I knew. So what was I really after?_

* * * * *

"You know, that's the first time I've ever been **grateful** to someone who's just stuck me with a needle," Duo commented, sipping at his second glass of orange juice. Thanks to an injection from a nurse, the first glassful had gone down and **stayed** down.

"Now if they could just do something to stop you feeling cold, it'd be perfect," Heero muttered, tucking the blankets in around Duo more snugly.

"I don't mind just waiting it out," Duo shrugged. "At least now I can stay still and keep the blankets in place."

"Still..." Heero grimaced and sat down again.

"Did you get hold of the guys?"

The Japanese pilot nodded. "They'll come in for a visit later this afternoon, when they've finished moving our stuff."

"I'm surprised you didn't call them earlier," Duo said absently, examining the multifunction remote control attached to the head of the bed. "I would've expected Quatre to be just about vibrating with impatience until he found out how it went."

"I didn't feel like calling him and telling him 'Duo is throwing up every thirty seconds, but that's nothing to worry about'," Heero said dryly. "He wouldn't have taken it well." _And there was no way in hell I was going to leave you to find a payphone before that stopped!_

"Good point." Duo yawned, surprising himself, and scowled indignantly. "This is ridiculous! I just woke up and I'm sleepy again? I haven't even had lunch yet!"

"Bits of you have had a busy morning," Heero pointed out. "If you want a nap, I'll wake you up when the food arrives. Assuming they're planning to feed you, that is," Heero added, suddenly uncertain. "I know they don't let you eat **before** an operation, but I don't know about after."

"They'd better," Duo growled, stabbing at the remote to lower the head of his bed. "Otherwise, knee or no knee, I'm going out for junk food."

"You will not! You will assign **me** a search-and-acquire mission on the kitchens. Or on the nearest pizza place, if the food here lives up to the usual hospital stereotype."

Duo had been about to snap an angry reply to Heero's first order, but the rest of what he said made him chuckle. "Sounds good," he yawned, settling down and adjusting his pillows. "I've got a loaded Heero and I'm not afraid to use him..."

* * * * *

"He wants you to be his Champion," Uthmar repeated flatly.

"Yes."

"This is **not** good."

"I'm not exactly ecstatic about it myself!" Wufei snapped back, then winced and lowered his voice again. They'd returned to camp, so he'd been able to get at his medical supplies, but the painkillers weren't making much of an impression on his headache; it looked as if he was going to have to wait it out. Discussing the cause of that headache couldn't wait, however, so he and the two Champions of Torframos had found a private spot a short distance from the camp. "I don't know where he got the idea I'd want to be his champion, though. Even if he's been watching me somehow - which shouldn't be possible, if what you said about **your** god not being able to sense me at all unless one of you is looking at me is accurate - I **don't** think I've been acting like a good prospect for recruitment."

Uthmar and Arwen exchanged looks, hesitating for a moment, before Arwen replied. "Er... the way you act wouldn't necessarily have anything to do with it. Neither would the fact that you don't want to serve him."

"Gods don't just pick Champions from their most devout followers, Wufei," Uthmar explained.

"If they did, Vaijon would have become one **years** ago," Arwen muttered.

"They look at our souls and see something... different about us," the dwarf continued, glaring briefly at his fellow Champion. "Torframos once told me that it's like seeing a spark, the same colour as his power. It's what lets him act through us without destroying us. If Krashnark offered to make you his Champion, then something in your soul matches his nature."

"Which also means he probably **can** see you," Arwen added.

"...Great," Wufei said after a long, shocked pause. "That's just what I needed to hear. Part of my soul 'matches' a Dark God. Do you have anything **else** morale-boosting to tell me about this?!"

"It's not as bad as it might seem-" Uthmar started.

"What do you mean, not as bad?!" Wufei almost screamed back. "I'm being stalked by an evil god because he likes the way my soul looks! How would **you** feel?!"

"Terrified," Arwen said bluntly. "Uthmar's right, though, it could be a lot worse. Sit down and listen, okay? There's a lot you need to know."

Wufei took a deep breath and held it, fighting down the impulse to keep shouting, and rubbed at his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pounding headache. He didn't let out his breath and speak until he was reasonably sure he could do so without losing control again. "Arwen," he said carefully, "at this point I don't think there's anything you could say that would make me feel better about this."

"Krashnark isn't actually evil."

"...What?" Wufei blinked at him, then shook his head, grimacing. "Wait a minute. He's **not** a Light god, so-"

"I mean it. He's a Dark god, yes, but all that means is that he was born into the Dark pantheon and serves his father, Phrobus. Hells, Phrobus was born into the Light pantheon, but that didn't make him good! Krashnark is ruthless, and he can be cruel, but he's also honourable. He's the only Dark god that the Light gods actually respect. Wufei, that's probably why you 'match' him well enough to be a possible Champion!"

Wufei finally took Arwen's advice and sat down, leaning back against a tree and taking several deep breaths as he organised his thoughts. "You're right," he admitted. "That **is** better than it could be."

"Definitely," Uthmar agreed. "You could have attracted Fiendark's attention; he's easily amused by anything that upsets his siblings, so the fact that you destroyed several of Sharna's servants might have got him interested in you. Or, gods forbid, Phrobus could be after you himself."

"That still doesn't mean I like the idea of having **any** Dark god even know I exist!"

* * * * *

"You'll change your mind soon enough," Krashnark predicted, 'watching' the conversation through a shimmering image he'd called up. "I'll give you a little time to calm down, and then..."

_All I have to do is wait until he comes around to my way of thinking,_ he thought complacently, _and keep talking to him in the meantime. We're too alike for him to reject me forever. Given enough time, he'll __**like**__ me._

I already like _**him**__... but, after all, I can see everything I need to know about him in one glance,_ he mused, changing how he looked at Wufei and smiling as the emerald-green fire of Wufei's soul became visible. A deep red spark bobbed within the green, flaring and dimming unpredictably as Wufei gestured and spoke. _He's perfect. It'll take him a while to realise just __**how**__ perfect he is for me... and the way I mishandled our first meeting will make it longer._

Never mind. I can wait.

* * * * *

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I'm a lay brother, not a knight, Sir Vaijon," Gunnar said, twisting to see the tall, golden-haired human standing behind him.

"Nevertheless, you are my superior in the Order," Vaijon said stiffly. "'Sir' is therefore appropriate."

_You've just got to pigeon-hole everybody, don't you?_ Gunnar thought behind a bland expression. _And it really bothers you that a mere lay-brother dwarf __**does**__ outrank you._ "If it makes you happy," he drawled, and watched with amusement as Vaijon flinched a fraction of an inch. "What do you want?"

"The... ominous feeling earlier," the knight-probationer said slowly, choosing his words with care. "It occurred while you and the Champions were out of the camp, responding to the... ah... apparent danger to the demon Wufei. I assume you were aware of it?"

_Probably more so than you, boy._ "Yes."

Vaijon paused for a moment, until it was clear that Gunnar wasn't going to volunteer any information, then continued. "We have received no explanation of either happening, sir, apart from 'don't worry, it's been taken care of for now'. Might I inquire as to the cause of these events?"

"You know, Sir Vaijon, that's the most convoluted way I've ever heard someone ask 'what the hell happened?'," Gunnar said dryly.

The knight-probationer stiffened indignantly, face reddening. "I was brought up, **sir**, in the belief that a certain formality of manner is appropriate when addressing one's-"

"Yes, well, that's all very well in court," the dwarf cut him off, "but in the field it's better to get your meaning across quickly and damn the flourishes. Karthan!"

"What?"

"Ask Wufei to ask Uthmar if we're making what happened public, will you?"

- - - - - -

"I need a better idea of what gods exist and exactly what they do," Wufei was saying, rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. "It doesn't do me much good to ask 'who was that' **after** a deity pops into view and does whatever they came for. You mentioned- eh?" He cut himself off and frowned for a moment, then managed a weak chuckle. "Uthmar... Karthan says Gunnar is 'trying to adjust Vaijon's attitude'."

"Are they fighting?" Arwen asked, worried.

"No; just talking."

"That's worse," Uthmar said darkly. "More effective, probably, but worse."

"Gunnar wants to know if he can tell Vaijon what happened, or are we going to try and keep it a secret?" Wufei finished.

"...Now **there's** a question," Arwen muttered. "Uthmar?"

"Why are you asking **me**?"

"You're senior. I bow to your superior wisdom."

"There's a first for everything." Uthmar snorted and turned to Wufei, becoming serious again. "I think it's really up to you, Wufei. Which would **you** prefer? You're the person most affected by this, after all."

Wufei sighed, leaning his head back against the tree and closing his eyes. "It won't make it any easier for people to trust me... but... if we try to keep it a secret and it gets out, that will be much worse. Won't it?"

"Yes," the dwarf sighed, sitting down next to him. "And it won't be an easy secret to keep, if Krashnark decides to come talk to you in person again."

"I got the impression that that's exactly what he intends," Wufei muttered. "Besides which, I don't like lying, even by omission."

"We don't have to tell **everyone**, though," Arwen suggested. "We should tell the men, I agree- and Sir Terrian, when we eventually reach the Motherhouse. **They** need to know, especially if it's going to happen again... but there's no real reason to tell anyone else, is there?"

"Go on," Uthmar said, and Wufei slitted his eyes open to look at them.

"**We** trust you," Arwen emphasized. "If we couldn't, I think we'd know. That's part of what being a Champion is about; you're a demon, and if you were an **evil** demon, we'd sense it. Members of the Order will take our word for it- or they should if they want to stay members!"

"Softly," Uthmar warned, but he was grinning behind his beard.

"Telling people in general will just make them distrust you for no good reason," he finished. "If we can keep the knowledge within the order for a while- **without** lying, yes- that gives you a chance to build up trust. If you have a reputation as a good, honourable man, it will be much easier for people to accept it. Right?"

Wufei managed the ghost of a smile. "I suppose it might work. We'll tell them."

- - - - - -

Karthan raised one eyebrow as Wufei's agreement reached him down the link, and suppressed both a sigh and a smile. _Trust Uthmar to be out of the way when Vaijon reacts,_ he thought back.

_...I haven't seen enough of him to have a clear idea of how he'll take it,_ came Wufei's reply. _He's the 'Golden Boy' type, yes?_

That's a perfect description, Karthan snorted, rolling to his feet and dusting himself off.

_And he's going to take this badly?_ Wufei asked, resigned.

_Badly?_ Karthan scooped up his axe and swung it over his shoulder, hooking it onto his weapons harness. _He's not going to 'take it' at all. He's going to hear the word 'Krashnark' and... what was it again? Ah, yes. Four hundred years of Almerhas blood, honour and tradition will rise up and demand that he, as an Almerhas of Almerhas, take 'proper action'. In the process, that four hundred years of Almerhas bushwah will negate what intelligence he possesses. To be fair,_ he added, shrugging his shoulders and stamping his feet to make sure his boots and weapons harness were properly settled, _he __**is**__ intelligent. He just doesn't use his intelligence very often, because his Almerhas history and training almost always provide a 'proper' response without him having to think._

Judging from your preparation, the proper response is going to be violent.

Probably. He's certainly not going to consider the fact that you could defeat him without working up a sweat- assuming he realises that fact. He probably doesn't. It's been a long time since he's lost a fight, and he doesn't really think of the possibility any more.

That _**is**__ stupid,_ Wufei thought disgustedly. _Under the right- or wrong- conditions, __**anyone**__ can lose._

I know that, and you know that, but _**he**__ is an Almerhas of Almerhas._

Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to grow to hate that phrase?

Because you have a low tolerance for inane repetition? Karthan scratched at his beard, hiding a grin behind his hand as he felt Wufei's mingled amusement and exasperation, and then stretched. _I should tell Gunnar he can tell Vaijon before his well-bred Almerhas patience evaporates... and then I get to try to keep him from storming off to kill you, long enough for Gunnar to pound some sense into his head._

Wufei's mental 'voice' was concerned. _You could leave this until we get back... then the Champions could tell him directly._

If you're not right in front of him when he hears, he can't go for your throat, Karthan pointed out dryly. _You might want to start back now, though._ "Go ahead, Gunnar," he called out, taking a few steps sideways to place himself directly between Vaijon and the path the Champions and Wufei had taken.

Gunnar looked consideringly up at the tall human, who was waiting with at least the appearance of patience for his query to be answered, and apparently decided to give him the short version of events. Very short.

"The ominous feeling was Krashnark being annoyed when Prince Wufei turned him down."

For about five seconds, Vaijon just stood there, blankly looking at Gunnar and waiting for the rest of the explanation. Then he realised there **was** no more to it... then he finally processed what Gunnar had actually said. To Karthan's surprise, there was no outraged bellow; he just stiffened, eyes widening, then narrowing, glittering angry blue. He even nodded sharply to Gunnar before spinning on his heel and stalking towards Karthan with his hand on his sword hilt.

_His family really __**did**__ drill manners into him, didn't they?_ the dwarf thought incredulously, holding up empty hands and hoping he wouldn't have to pull his axe. "There's no need-"

"Stand aside," Vaijon snapped, pointing his free hand. "I won't listen to **you** if you try to dissuade me from my clear duty! You've been tainted by that demon and are not to be trusted!"

_Hells. I should have seen __**this**__ coming._ "Your 'clear duty' is to support Torframos's Champions in their decisions and actions, Sir Vaijon, and they have accepted Prince Wufei as an ally!" Karthan retorted, emphasizing Wufei's rank in the hope that it would help.

"If you think I'll believe-"

"The whole point is that Prince Wufei **refused**," Gunnar rumbled from behind Vaijon. "Weren't you **listening**?! The Order of Torframos has a duty to **support** such a courageous warrior, not try to kill him!"

"And whose word do we have that he **did** refuse, other than his own?" Vaijon shouted, whirling around to glare down at Gunnar.

"Krashnark would hardly have been that angry if he hadn't!"

"Besides which, I don't think he could have hidden his new status from two other Champions if he **had** said 'yes'," Karthan snorted.

"Exactly," Arwen's voice came coldly from behind him. "His Highness, Prince Wufei, has the full confidence of both Sir Uthmardanharknar and myself. He carries no taint from Krashnark's attempt to recruit him, and is not, himself, a threat. **Have** I made myself clear?"

The watching lay brothers and knights all nodded and rumbled quiet agreement- doubtfully in a few cases, but it was still agreement. Vaijon spun around again to stare open-mouthed at his commander, and Karthan choked back a badly-timed snicker as he wondered how long it would take before the knight-probationer got dizzy.

"But, Sir! If he-"

"Have I made myself **clear**, Sir Vaijon?"

"How can you trust him if a Dark god wants to recruit him?!" Vaijon screeched, flinging out one hand to point wildly at Wufei. Unfortunately, his position at the time meant that the easiest hand to point with was his **right**... the hand that was still clamped on the hilt of his sword. Only Karthan's reflexes saved him from being struck in the head as he snatched up his axe and turned away, feeling the axeblade thump against his back as he blocked the accidental blow, and Vaijon was left staring aghast at what he'd almost done.

"I'll tell you one thing, Sir Vaijon," Karthan said into the frozen silence, slowly settling his axe back into place. "I trust him not to forget about innocent bystanders."


	22. Chapter 21

Quatre folded his mobile phone closed and tucked it into his pocket, a relieved smile on his face. "That was Heero. The surgery went well and Duo's awake; apparently he had some sort of reaction to the anaesthetic, but it's been taken care of and he's fine."

"That's good," Trowa said simply, walking past him with a stack of boxes balanced in his arms. "Could you get the door?"

"That's all you're going to say?" Quatre asked wryly. "'That's good'?"

Trowa paused, looking up at the ceiling and nodding thoughtfully as he considered. "Short... to the point... true... yes, that's about it. Door?"

"I realise you're not an overly demonstrative person, Trowa," the blond pilot sighed, "and I **like** the fact that you don't go over the top about the least little thing, but once in a while-"

Trowa dropped the boxes on the table, spun around and grabbed Quatre, pulling him close and kissing him passionately; then he pulled back half an inch, gazing into startled blue eyes. "Yippee," he murmured, deadpan. "**Now** will you open the door?"

"...I think I'll go and open the door for you," Quatre said eventually, blinking. "Yes. Um. All right..."

"**Thank** you," Trowa chuckled softly, releasing him and picking the boxes up again.

"Whew. Perhaps I should try to get you to be more demonstrative more often!"

"Don't I kiss you enough?"

"I didn't say that!" Laughing, Quatre opened the front door, revealing Relena walking up to it.

"Good... good morning, Trowa, Quatre," Relena said hesitantly, looking down at her hands. "Is Hee... ah... are Duo and Heero in?"

_She's looking for both of them, not just Heero?_ "Actually, Relena, they're at the hospital," Quatre said without thinking, then winced inwardly. _Oh, great. We're still supposed to be in hiding! It's bad enough having her come visit us __**here**__, but if she marches over to the hospital, it's sure to be noticed-_

"Oh!" Relena's hand flew to her mouth, and for a moment she looked as if she was about to cry. "Is it Duo's knee? Is he all right?"

"He's fine! He had to have surgery to fix a ligament, but he'll be fine," Quatre assured her, now thoroughly confused.

"Are **you** all right, Relena?" Trowa asked quietly, putting the boxes down again. "You seem rather upset."

"I'm fine," she said quickly, then wavered. "Well... I will be. I really do need to talk to Duo, though; do you know if he's allowed visitors, yet?"

Trowa shook his head. "His surgery was this morning, so only immediate family are allowed today. Heero got in by force of personality."

Relena winced slightly. "I was hoping to get this over with before I lost my nerve," she muttered, barely audible, then managed a shaky smile. "It's good that **someone's** with him. Nobody should be alone when they're not well... You're, um, moving?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well, Duo's going to be on crutches for a while, with his leg in a brace, and this house isn't really suitable-" Quatre started.

"Can I help?"

"Um... there's really no need..."

"I mean it," she said seriously. "I really would like to help. There must be **something** I can do!"

Quatre looked helplessly at Trowa, and got back a nearly invisible shrug along with an 'I don't know, what do you think?' sort of expression. "We're not taking much more than personal possessions," he said slowly, reaching into his pocket. "We're going to need to get furniture, and Duo made a list of what he'd like. If you give me the receipts, I'll pay you back," he added quickly, holding out the crumpled note.

"I can do that!" Relena had a relieved smile on her face as she took the paper and smoothed it out, quickly skimming the short list. "Where should I have it delivered? And what sort of cover story are you using? Are you going to be living under different names? I should know, in case somebody asks questions."

Only Quatre's long experience at functioning smoothly in tense situations, no matter what surprises turned up, allowed him to keep talking instead of gaping wordlessly. _Relena has __**never**__ cared what our cover story was!_ he thought incredulously, as part of him, operating on autopilot, told her their new address and watched her write it down. _She's marched into schools and businesses and asked for us by our real names so many times, it's amazing she hasn't gotten us killed yet... actually, it's more amazing that OZ never caught on. If they'd just assigned a squad to follow her around, we would have had a serious problem._

"Duo's records at the hospital are under his real name, and he'll have to go there fairly frequently for a while, so he can't use an assumed name. Trowa and Heero aren't well known, so they should be all right, and even if I'm recognised it should just lend colour to our cover story." He quickly filled her in on the 'rich kids taking a year off' story that he'd come up with, and she smiled.

"That should work," she agreed. "What about Duo's knee?"

"We tell the truth," Trowa shrugged. "He fell down some stairs. Duo won't lie, but if he just refuses to say anything more and the rest of us imply it happened at a ski lodge, people will think he's too embarrassed to talk about it."

"I've got it," Relena nodded, looking at the list again. "I should get going. Thank you for letting me help." She started to turn away, then hesitated. "I..."

"Yes?"

"I need to apologise," she said quickly, forcing herself to meet their eyes. "To Duo and Heero most of all, but to you, too, for the way I've behaved ever since we met. I've chased Heero like a, a **groupie**, and I've ignored the rest of you except when I thought I could use you to get closer to Heero, and I'm sorry. I won't be doing that anymore." She dipped in a sort of half-curtsy and walked away before they could respond, her back slightly straighter than before.

As she walked back to where Pargan waited with the limousine, she read the note again. Scrawled in Duo's exuberant handwriting, messy but readable, it was short and to the point.

_'Large bed, thick FIRM mattress, lotsa pillows  
-four posted/canopy?  
bookshelf, desk, dresser  
bowl chair or whatever it's called- papasan?'_

"Where to now, Miss Relena?" Pargan asked, holding the door open for her.

"This address first, then a good furniture and homewares store," she told him, settling into her seat and handing him the new safehouse's address. "We have a mission, Pargan!"

- - - - - -

Quatre and Trowa watched the limousine pull away, then turned slowly to each other.

"Trowa... do you have **any** idea whatsoever what that was about?" Quatre asked.

"No. Unless she stuck her finger into a light socket and jump-started a previously unused portion of her brain, that is," Trowa added. "She's never seemed to have any awareness of the possible consequences of what she does as a private person before. As a politician, yes, but that's never carried over into her personal life."

"She feels incredibly guilty about something," Quatre said positively. "Every time Duo's name came up, she flinched. But what could she possibly have done to Duo that would make her feel that bad?"

"Don't forget that she seems to be giving up on Heero, too... unless that little apology just means she's going to be chasing him with consideration for other people's feelings now."

"Does that mean she's going to become a **conscientious** stalker?" Quatre suppressed a giggle, starting to see the funny side. "Normally, I would have been reluctant to give her our new address, but if she **is** going to pay attention to our cover story, having her turn up can only help our impersonation of spoiled rich kids."

"And you were so startled by her new attitude that you didn't think of **not** telling her," Trowa said bluntly.

"Ye-esss... it was a bit of a shock, to say the least."

"Let's just hope this doesn't backfire on us." Quatre raised a questioning eyebrow at Trowa and the taller pilot elaborated. "Imagine Duo's reaction if he gets out of the hospital only to find that everything in his new room is **pink**."

* * * * *

"He's sulking."

"Normally, I would be the first to agree with you, Sir Uthmar," Gunnar said politely, "however, I'm sure there must be an alternate explanation for Sir Vaijon's current behaviour. An Almerhas of Almerhas, after all, does not stoop to such a plebian occupation as **sulking**."

"What would you say he's doing, then?"

Uthmar's second-in-command seemed to consider the question for a moment, scratching thoughtfully at his chin through his beard. "Hmmm... brooding, perhaps?" he suggested. "Cogitating? Ruminating, even?"

"On the evils of the world, no doubt," Karthan put in sarcastically, "one of which is the fact that he has been disciplined for arguing with lesser beings- a dwarf and a peasant- who have unaccountably been placed in command over him. His one hope is that Torframos will eventually realise what a monumental mistake he made when he elevated such unworthy mortals to the lofty stature of Champion, and will replace them with a more deserving specimen."

"Would you two mind not doing that?" Arwen asked plaintively. "I'm starting to feel nauseated."

The object of their 'discussion' was currently acting as a forward scout, ahead of the main column with a small party of foot soldiers. He wasn't in charge of the party, which would probably have reconciled him to the situation; no, his job was to periodically ride back until he was in sight of the main group and signal to let them know that the scouts hadn't run into anything hostile yet. It wasn't a particularly prestigious job, carrying little danger and less responsibility, and every time he rode into sight, his stiff, offended posture and curt gestures made his displeasure clear.

"Normally, if I assigned him that duty simply because he was available and it needed to be done," Arwen muttered bitterly, "he'd be acting like an uncomplaining martyr, surrounded by an aura of noble self-sacrifice as he diligently performed a duty that's so obviously beneath him. -Hells, **I'm** doing it now, but it's true! If he's assigned a task that's 'beneath his station', he does it, but he radiates well-bred tolerance and patience so hard that I want to kick his immaculately tailored ass! He can recite the Order's precepts perfectly, including the one that says your birth means nothing once you join, but part of him is still convinced that the only reason he hasn't been raised to the high rank he was bred for is because the commanders of the Order haven't yet noticed the shining glow of nobility in his eyes!"

"Coming out of his backside, you mean," Uthmar said blandly, and Arwen lost the breath he was drawing in to continue his rant in a startled guffaw of laughter.

"Whoo!" he gasped, wiping at his tearing eyes. "I needed that. Thanks."

"Has anyone ever just come out and **told** him where he's going wrong?" Karthan asked curiously.

"Sir Terrian did," Arwen sighed, still chuckling.

"Obviously, it didn't work."

"Well, I wasn't there, but from what Sir Terrian said when he assigned Vaijon to me, I gather the knight-probationer was rather offended by the implied slight to his honour." The human Champion shrugged. "Apparently, he honestly believes that his attitudes are **not** elitist, and he **doesn't** treat low-born members of the Order differently from the noble-born members."

"He's blind," Karthan said decisively.

"Totally," Uthmar agreed, nodding.

"You said you thought exposure to Prince Wufei might rattle a little sense into him," Arwen said hopefully, glancing sideways to where Nataku was pacing along beside the column, carrying Naiya and Terrin carefully in one enormous hand. "Do you think he might have an idea or two on how to deal with him?"

Before Uthmar could answer, Gunnar snorted derisively. "Trust me, Sir Arwen; Wufei's got far more important things on his mind right now than one human idiot who wasn't spanked enough as a child!"

- - - - - -

He was right. Wufei wasn't thinking of Sir Vaijon at all; he was far more occupied with the fact that he now had to deal with **two** Dark Gods that were out to get him, one way or another.

_One wants to kill me, and the other wants to subvert me,_ he thought morosely, watching the passing scenery without really seeing it. _I think I'm more worried about the second one! People have been trying to kill me for the last couple of years, so it's not too surprising that I'm used to it by now... and given that it has to have been very clear that I'm __**not**__ interested in serving him, the fact that Krashnark hasn't given up is-_

=*Yes?*=

Wufei stiffened in his chair, hands clenching on Nataku's controls, and a faint yelp was picked up by the external microphones as the Gundam wobbled slightly. "Get the hell out of my head!"

_=*I thought you called me,*=_ Krashnark 'said' in surprisingly calm, reasonable tones. _=*While you're deciding whether or not to become my Champion, I have to be available to you at any time to answer whatever questions occur to you. Thinking or speaking my name will attract my attention.*=_

"I thought that you would have taken the hint when I tried to stab you," Wufei growled, glaring upwards. Although the mental voice didn't seem to come from any particular direction, 'up' seemed an appropriate place to focus on. "No. I don't want to. Now leave me alone!"

_=*But you haven't had time to gather enough information to base a reasoned decision on,*=_ the god argued. _=*You don't have a full understanding of what you're turning down, so I cannot accept your refusal yet.*=_

"Would you say that if I'd said 'yes'?"

A deep, rich chuckle. _=*Probably not, I have to admit.*=_

"Then the argument is invalid," Wufei snapped. "If you won't apply a restriction to your own desires, you can't **honourably** apply it to people who disagree with you." There was no immediate reply, and he pressed on. "I know enough about you to know what I want. You're the god of **ambitious** war, correct?"

_=*...I see that you've been taking the opportunity to talk to your companions. Now that you __**can**__,*=_ Krashnark added pointedly.

"I didn't ask for your gift, so don't try to get points for giving it to me! I don't want to lead a war of conquest. If you were a god of- of justified war, or something like that, I might be interested. You're not. I'm not. Go away."

_=*No. If you could just see your soul the way I do, you'd understand. It's a clear jewel-green, burning hot and bright,*=_ Krashnark told him, 'voice' softening, _=*with a spark of my own crimson in the heart of it. You __**are**__ my destined Champion, whether you want to admit it or not. It only remains for you to pick up my sword.*=_

"...My soul is green?"

_=*Yes.*=_

"Red and green," Wufei said coldly, "clash. I'm still saying 'no'!"

_=*Red and green look just fine together on your machine-armour.*=_

"I didn't choose the colour scheme, and there's hardly any green anyway!" He grimaced irritably, rubbing at his forehead. "There's no point in actually arguing with you, is there? You're going to ignore any justification for refusing you I can come up with, and keep coming back until I say 'yes', aren't you?"

_=*Of course,*=_ Krashnark said complacently. _=*Yes is, after all, the right answer.*=_

"You're just like Relena," Wufei muttered in a disgruntled voice. "Incapable of understanding any fact that doesn't fit in with what **you** want."

There was an almost tactile 'feel' of a puzzled frown. _=*Who is this Relena?*=_

Smiling sourly, Wufei concentrated, bringing up his memories of Relena's most irritating moments and focusing on them. "Since you seem to be eavesdropping on my thoughts anyway, here; take a look."

_=*I was __**not**__ eavesdropping! I merely know when you focus on my... name...*=_ The mental 'voice' trailed off, radiating first shock, then offended pride and anger. _=*I am not like that!*=_

"That's how you're acting!" Wufei shouted. "Neither of you will take 'no' for an answer!"

_=*__**She**__ doesn't even notice it!*=_

"And you won't believe I'm serious!"

_=*You just don't understand-*=_

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! You're both so certain that you're right, everyone who disagrees with you in any way is automatically wrong, and you can't even see how patronising and insulting that attitude is! Give me credit for a **little** intelligence, at least, and a will of my own!"

_=*But I __**am**__ right,*=_ Krashnark protested.

Wufei threw up his hands in exasperation. "I refuse to continue this conversation. You're obviously incapable of rational thought on the subject. Go **away**."

_=*Very well. I'll talk to you again, later.*=_

"I wish you wouldn't," Wufei grumbled, but somehow he could tell he was alone again. He sat and fumed in silence for a few minutes, then abruptly snorted. "Well," he muttered, "one good thing came out of that, at least. I'm not scared of him any more."

_And if I ever get to see Yui again, I will never, __**ever**__, be unsympathetic about his problem with Relena!_

Occupied by imagining Heero vainly trying to hide from a ten-foot tall Relena (who was mysteriously dressed in Krashnark's clothes and kept melting into Krashnark with Relena's hairstyle), Wufei piloted Nataku along beside the column, watching the morning sun rise higher over the Spinewall's hills.

* * * * *

Quatre tapped gently on the door to Duo's room and peered around it, smiling. "Duo? How are you this morning? We would have come to see you yesterday, but we didn't finish moving things until after visiting hours were over, and- what are you doing out of bed already?!"

"Getting measured for custom crutches!" Duo said happily, balancing on one leg with Heero supporting him from behind. "Come on in, guys, and have a look at the catalogue. Some of the style selections are **way** cool!"

"Okay, try this," a man said, passing a pair of adjustable forearm crutches to Duo from his seated position on the floor. "See how the length feels."

"Pretty good," Duo said judiciously, shifting his weight onto the crutches as Heero carefully let go. "Maybe a little long?"

"Move around a bit," the man told him, watching critically as Duo swung himself across the floor. Behind them, Quatre and Trowa carefully edged into the room, ending up beside Dr. Modi, who nodded cheerfully and passed them a slim, glossy catalogue.

"Your technique is pretty good," the man on the floor said abruptly as Duo turned to come back, "but you've got the crutches too close to your body. Try taking a wider stance, more braced; it's a lot more stable."

"I catch the ends on things when I do that," Duo objected.

"That's why you slow down and take a little more care when you're in confined quarters! You're not trying to win a race, you know."

"Wanna bet?" Duo did try the wider stance, though, and grudgingly admitted it was more comfortable.

"Less likely to whack yourself in the knee with your own crutch, too," the man grinned, waiting until Heero was supporting Duo again before taking the crutches back and quickly noting down the measurements marked by each of the adjustment points. "Okay, you're fitted and we've got your colour and pattern choice; we'll get your crutches to you before the good Doctor lets you out of bed again! See ya!"

"See ya, Steve!" Duo called, carefully swinging his legs up onto the bed and settling back.

"Before I leave you with your friends, Duo, just a couple of quick questions, please," Dr. Modi said, stepping forward and probing gently at the skin around Duo's bandages. "Colour is good, yes, no unusual heat or swelling, excellent... Is the knee giving you any pain?"

"Aah, it's fine," the braided teen said dismissively, and the doctor fixed him with a stern look.

"Allow me to make myself clear. I did not ask if it was bothering you; I am well aware that you and your friends are unnaturally indifferent to pain."

"You've been talking to Sally," Trowa said dryly.

"Exactly. At this point, you **should** be feeling some pain, and if you tell me you are not I will have to start worrying about nerve damage. Now. Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Duo admitted, rolling his eyes.

"Excellent! Does it hurt **much**?"

"Kinda."

"Even better. I will see you this afternoon for your knee-bending attempt. Try not to upset any more nurses' notions of the way patients are supposed to behave before then, please. Goodbye."

"Any **more**?" Trowa asked, amused, as the door swung shut behind the doctor.

"There have been a couple of incidents," Heero said blandly. "Apparently, patients are not supposed to send their friends out for pizza at seven AM because they don't like the available breakfast options."

"Reconstituted powdered scrambled eggs," Duo muttered, making a face. "On soggy toast. Yuck. You wouldn't feed it to a dog, because if you tried, it would bite you."

"Well then, I'm sure this will be appreciated at least as much as the more traditional offerings of fruit and flowers," Quatre said, pulling a couple of takeaway bags out of his backpack as Trowa produced a milkshake out of his. "I was positive someone would smell the onion, but we weren't stopped." He started to unpack the contents onto Duo's meal table, then hesitated. "Ah... I have **one** 'mother hen' comment to make, Duo, and then I promise I'll be good and not fuss. I hope they're giving you some sort of painkillers for your knee!"

Duo grinned wickedly. "Well, they tried."

"That was the **other** incident," Heero explained. "Patients are also supposed to whine and moan and beg for pain medication, it seems, not cheerfully refuse because they've 'had worse and never bothered before'."

"You've got to admit, Heero, the look on her face was **priceless**."

"Horrified, I would have said," Heero mused, face deadpan, but with a glitter of humour in his eyes.

As Duo started in on the burgers, Quatre settled into the visitor's chair next to the bed and Trowa pulled Heero aside and handed him a small duffel bag. "If you're going to be staying with him until he gets out, I figured you'd need a few more clothes and things," Trowa said quietly. "How is he?"

Heero winced slightly, dropping the bag on top of the low cot that had been brought in for him to sleep on. Normally used to let a parent stay with a young child without taking up another patient bed, this one had just quietly appeared after Dr. Modi had seen Heero settling in the chair for the night. "As far as being in hospital goes, he's all right," he said quietly, dropping his voice until it was barely audible over Quatre's as the blond teen started filling Duo in on everything he'd missed. "Once he found out that the doctor was going to back him up on anything he wants to do or not do that doesn't endanger his health, he relaxed a lot. But... he didn't sleep well last night. I think he was dreaming about Wufei. He kept saying 'look out', over and over."

"There's not much we can do about that," Trowa replied sympathetically, just as quietly.

"I know that. I just wish... it seems like he blames himself for what happened, and he shouldn't." Heero muttered. "Hell, I'm the one the damn thing was aiming for-"

"Don't **you** start, too," Trowa groaned softly. "At this rate, we're all going to end up with guilt complexes. Can we just agree to blame OZ and leave it at that?"

Before Heero could answer, they were interrupted by Duo nearly choking on a mouthful of hamburger. "She did **what**?!" he sputtered, staring incredulously at Quatre.

"She apologised," he repeated, spreading his hands and shrugging.

"Heero? You've got to hear this," Duo insisted, waving him over.

After the full tale of Relena's strange behaviour the day before had been told, Duo sat back against his pillows, scratching his head.

"Something is very wrong here. She asked about **me**, seemed worried about **me**, and apologised for the way she's been behaving? Oh, **and** she also wanted to help us maintain cover, not to mention volunteering to shop- again, for **me**, the person she ignores whenever possible."

"Yes," Trowa said calmly, and Quatre nodded. "We thought it was weird, too."

"It's beyond weird!" Duo exclaimed. "I'm starting to think pod person here! -Oh, and just to let you guys know, if all my stuff turns out to be pink, I may kill her. Did you check the back of her neck?"

"...What?" Quatre blinked, bewildered.

"That's how you tell if someone's a pod person. They're attached at the back of the neck while they're growing in those big bean pods, and it leaves a mark."

"Duo!"

"I'm just saying it fits the observed facts! She's either a pod person or a badly programmed clone," Duo insisted. "Relena Dorlian-Peacecraft, Queen of the World, does **not** express sincere concern, or ask to talk to me. She's real good at worrying about the problems of people she's never met, but when it comes down to individuals she knows personally, her Friend-To-The-World act tends to slip."

"All I know is that's what she did and said," Quatre sighed, then checked his watch. "And speaking of Relena, she called me just before we got here to say that things were going to be delivered at about eleven, but she can't be at the house to let them in because she'll be stuck in meetings."

"Not that she'd be able to let them in anyway, since we didn't give her keys," Trowa muttered.

"So, we need to get going," Quatre stood up and leaned over to hug Duo. "I promise, if it's pink, we'll send it back!"

"See you, guys. Let me know how it goes!" Duo waved, Heero nodded, Trowa snitched a french fry and waved it in a vague gesture of farewell, and then they were gone.

Duo took a drink of his milkshake, staring into space as he thought, and then turned to Heero with a smirk on his face. "Actually, it's got a great ring to it, don't you think? 'Relena the Pod Princess'."

"Catchy," Heero agreed, deadpan.


	23. Chapter 22

"Now that I think of it, we're going to have to either get new transport, or come up with a **very** good explanation for why four spoilt rich teenagers are driving around in a junker," Quatre said suddenly.

Trowa glanced over at him from his position behind the steering wheel. "A junker with an impressively customised engine, too. Perhaps we can say that rebuilding abandoned cars is Heero's hobby, and this one is only half finished?"

"That should work," Quatre agreed, relaxing slightly. "I should have thought of that before now, though!"

"You **have** been slightly distracted," Trowa pointed out mildly, turning a corner.

"I can't afford to be distracted when it's something that could affect our cover. It's all very well for me to be worried about Duo, but that won't help him much if I end up getting him killed because I forgot something important!"

"It wasn't that serious, Quatre. It'll even give Heero something to do apart from hovering over Duo and checking his email."

"But what **else** have I forgotten?" Quatre fretted, refusing to be comforted.

"...Curtains?" Trowa suggested.

"What?"

Wordlessly, Trowa pointed at the truck driving across the intersection in front of them. 'THE CURTAIN SHOP' was painted in large red letters across its side.

"...Actually, I **did** forget curtains," Quatre admitted, watching the truck go past. "Um. And quite a few other things for the house. Like **our** furniture."

"Oops," Trowa chuckled. "Well, it's fixable. That truck's even turning into our street; if it stops, you can get their phone number off of it."

"It has to stop in our street," Quatre said absently, mentally working out a list of things the house would need, and wincing at its length. "It's a cul de sac."

Trowa raised an eyebrow. "Heero won't like that. I'm not sure **I** like that."

"Oh, it doesn't limit our exit routes," Quatre assured him. "There's a small park down the road that we can cut through to reach another street, and if that fails, we've got a straight-line run from the driveway through the back fence to a three-way intersection. The fence isn't strong enough to stop a car; I checked."

"See?" Trowa teased gently. "You're not forgetting the **important** things."

"Remember that when you're sleeping on the floor tonight... please?"

Trowa opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated, frowning. "Are **all** those trucks outside **our** house?"

"...It looks that way," Quatre said slowly.

**Three** furniture delivery trucks were parked along the side of the road, and the curtain truck pulled up behind them as the pilots watched, blinking.

"Did I tell Relena to get curtains?" Quatre asked plaintively.

"No."

"And **you** didn't order them, right?"

"No."

"I know **I** didn't."

"Mm-hm."

"I really don't think Heero or Duo would have thought of it, either."

"Definitely not," Trowa agreed, pulling into the driveway and stopping.

"So why are they here?"

"Either it's a wrong address, or Relena's improvising. Since I **don't** think it would take three trucks to deliver just the things Duo asked for, I'd say she's improvising."

"Pink," Quatre muttered darkly under his breath, and got out of the car.

Before he could find out whether or not the furniture was in fact pink, something pink arrived. Pargan parked the limousine behind the delivery trucks and hurried up the driveway, looking mildly concerned.

"My apologies, Mister Winner, Mister Barton," he said, bowing slightly. "I had intended to arrive before the deliveries, but circumstances intervened."

"We just got here ourselves, so you're not late," Trowa pointed out. "I thought Relena had a meeting?"

"Three meetings, to be precise," Pargan said dryly. "Miss Relena **did**, however, manage to find a moment to write a note, explaining what she has bought and where the various items should go. She thought it might prove... ah..."

"Helpful?" Quatre suggested.

"Necessary?" Trowa muttered, watching as the deliverymen opened the back of one truck, revealing a **lot** of blanket-wrapped pieces of furniture.

"Instructive," Pargan finished, handing over an envelope with a slight smile.

Unfolding the single sheet of paper inside, Quatre started to read the handwritten note, Trowa looking over his shoulder.

_'Quatre, Trowa,_

I'm sorry I can't be there to supervise the deliveries, but at  
least I managed to stay out of meetings long enough to finish the  
shopping. And yes, I realise you didn't ask me to get all of those  
things, but you probably haven't had the time to think of all the  
things a house needs... so, I expanded the parameters of my mission  
slightly.'

"'Mission'?" Trowa muttered quietly. "She's been following Heero for too long, I think."

_'Besides, very few men can actually __**decorate**__!'_

Quatre winced slightly at that line, envisioning what Relena's ideas of proper decorating might be; then read on, and his eyes widened.

_'I made some (hopefully correct) assumptions about who would be  
in which rooms: Duo in one of the ground-floor bedrooms, Heero in  
the other, and you two in the master bedroom upstairs. Please direct  
the deliverymen to put the dark wood ensemble in Duo's room, along  
with the jewel-tone blue and purple linens and curtains. Heero's is  
the pale wood ensemble with cream and blue accessories, and I chose  
earth tones for yours. If any of it isn't suitable, I made the  
manager of every single store swear on their mothers' graves it  
could be exchanged without penalty._

There are also a coordinating set of dining and living room  
furniture, bookshelves, entertainment center, kitchen necessities,  
and so forth. After all, if your neighbors are friendly, you'll need  
something appropriate for them to sit on when they visit. The  
furniture at your last house was _**not**__ appropriate, and it was in  
such bad shape that sitting on it wouldn't do Duo's knee any good._

(Speaking of Duo's knee, I understand that swimming is good  
exercise for that sort of injury, so I've organised a yard crew to  
clean the leaves out of the pool and hot tub, and to check the water  
quality. I didn't sign you up for a regular gardening or pool  
maintenance schedule, though, since I thought you'd prefer to set  
that up yourselves. Or not.)

Pargan knows the layout I planned for each of the rooms, and I've  
asked him to stay and help direct the deliverymen. If I've forgotten  
to tell you anything, I'm sure he'll remember.

Please, if there's anything else I can do to help, don't hesitate  
to ask. I'm glad I could do something, and I genuinely would like to  
do more.

Thank you,  
Relena'

"That's a note?" Quatre muttered under his breath, looking over the neatly-written page. "Notes are **short**... and there wasn't any mention of pink or ruffles."

"Or Total Pacifism," Trowa murmured in his ear, and Quatre had to disguise a laugh as a cough.

"Trowa!" he hissed, struggling not to laugh again.

"She's worked it into conversations on almost every other topic before," Trowa pointed out, voice barely above a whisper. "Why not this topic?"

Pargan cleared his throat. "Sirs, if I might make a suggestion...? Perhaps if we were to move the furnishings into your room first, you could then make a start on unpacking your belongings, while I supervise the rest of the delivery."

"In other words, let's get started before the drivers start charging overtime," Trowa said dryly.

"If sir wishes to interpret it that way..."

Once things were explained to the deliverymen, the unloading got underway. Some of the items that were moved out of the trucks and temporarily placed on the lawn, awaiting their turn to be carried inside, got a slightly concerned glance from Quatre.

"Those bookshelves might be too tall," he said slowly, comparing them with his hazy recollection of the ceiling height.

"Everything will fit in its proper place, Mister Winner, I assure you," Pargan said calmly. "Miss Relena was most particular about the measurements."

"What did you do?" Trowa asked. "Look in through all the windows and make estimates?"

"No, sir. We went inside and made use of a tape measure," the elderly man replied. His tone of voice supplied the unspoken 'of course' at the end of the sentence.

"But... I didn't give Relena a key," Quatre said doubtfully.

Pargan's moustache twitched slightly, and he raised one eyebrow a fraction. "At the risk of sounding flippant, sir... since when has **that** made a difference?"

"You didn't!"

"Regardless of my employer's gender, Mister Winner, I **am** a gentleman's gentleman," Pargan said serenely. "My duties can be nicely summed up as 'whatever proves necessary'... including, sometimes, surreptitious entry into locked premises. Miss Relena was rather surprised, but not displeased."

"Pargan, I never knew you had it in you," Trowa chuckled.

"On a personal note, sirs..." Pargan paused, looking slightly uncomfortable, then cleared his throat and continued. "I would like to thank you for enlisting Miss Relena's assistance. She found a great deal of enjoyment in choosing furniture and fabrics to suit each of you, and I honestly don't think I've seen her that happy for quite some time."

"Er... really?" Quatre asked, surprised.

"Really, sir. Miss Relena is good at concealing her true feelings, but I have been aware for some time that she is not at ease. More recently, something happened which first angered, and then depressed her. Whatever the underlying problem may be hasn't gone away, but for a few hours yesterday she was able to forget it." He frowned, watching the deliverymen without really seeing them. "I wouldn't have mentioned this, sir, if I had any doubts at all about your discretion, or if I did not hope that you might be able to help in some way."

"Pargan... I'm flattered, but I honestly don't know how we can," Quatre said, exchanging glances with Trowa. _This probably has something to do with Relena apologising and seeming worried about Duo, but we're no closer to finding out __**why**__!_

"Perhaps, if there is anything else Miss Relena can assist you with...?" Pargan suggested hopefully. "Being able to help you **did** seem to help her, after all. This would also enable you to spend more time with Mister Maxwell... a topic which seems to concern Miss Relena at the moment." He cleared his throat again, carefully not looking at Quatre and Trowa. "Rather more than anything else seems to concern her, in fact."

Exchanging another startled, thoughtful glance with Quatre, Trowa nodded slowly. "We'll see what we can do."

Pargan's tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, and he smiled. "Thank you, sirs. I can't ask for more than that. ...Well. The furniture for your room seems to have been moved in now, so perhaps you would care to unpack while I continue to supervise out here?"

* * * * *

"Er... Sir Wufei-"

"**What**?"

Uthmar blinked in surprise at Wufei's tone of voice. It hadn't been angry, or rude. What it **had** been was cold and controlled, with a definite overtone of 'NOT NOW' about it.

"Is something... wrong?" he asked delicately.

For a moment, it seemed as if Wufei was about to go for the dwarf's throat, as he directed a seething glare in his direction; then, he took a deep breath and straightened up, visibly controlling himself.

_Wrong? Yes, you could say that,_ he thought bitterly. _I am frustrated because I have to keep Nataku down to the marching speed of a group of people with very short legs. I am not used to working with anyone other than another Gundam pilot. I miss the ability to call the other pilots... I miss __**them**__ calling __**me**__ just to say 'hi'._

I miss Duo calling me. Playing his music just makes it worse at times.

I would have liked to talk to someone during the day's march, perhaps find out some more about this world and what's going on in it... but I don't want to use the link to Karthan if it isn't absolutely necessary. I can't use the external speakers without scaring the horses and announcing our presence to the surrounding countryside, and I _**definitely**__ don't want to let anyone into Nataku's cockpit in case that somehow forms another link to them..._

...and all of that would have been bearable, if it wasn't for one other thing.

"Kr- **he**," Wufei corrected himself, jabbing an accusing finger upwards, "has been... **annoying** me. All day."

"Oh?"

"He won't take 'no' for an answer," Wufei explained grimly. "At least, not for more than ten minutes at a time. He turns up every time I think his name, or think of a question he can answer, and if he's thought of a new reason why I should be his Champion since the last time I got him to shut up, he won't go away until I do the mental equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing at the top of my voice!"

"I can see how that would get on your nerves, yes," Uthmar said calmly. "If stuffing wax in your ears would be any help, I'd offer you a candle. Since it isn't, would you like to get drunk instead?"

The Chinese pilot looked at him incredulously for a moment, hovering between surprise and anger. Surprise won, and he laughed weakly, running one hand back over his hair. "Somehow, I don't think that will help either..."

"Well, it wouldn't stop him talking to you, but it might stop you from caring," Uthmar pointed out with a sympathetic smile.

Wufei sighed, managing a half-smile. "The thought is appreciated, Uthmar, but-"

"If he wasn't at least considering the offer, the god wouldn't keep pestering him," a voice muttered from behind Wufei, not **quite** quiet enough to go unheard. "I **said** we couldn't trust anyone a Dark god would want to recruit."

Wufei could feel his face freezing into a cold, blank mask as he slowly turned around to look behind him. The blond knight-probationer, Sir Vaijon, stiffened and glared back aggressively, refusing to back down.

"And just what would **you** know about it?" Wufei asked contemptuously.

Part of him was aware that, given his background and worldview, Sir Vaijon had a perfectly legitimate concern and shouldn't become a target for his temper just because he distrusted Wufei.

The rest of him had other ideas. _He's- supposedly- a responsible adult. He's been told by people he should regard as competent authorities that my trustworthiness is __**not**__ in question. He could have severely injured Karthan during his little temper tantrum yesterday, and he's been sulking ever since._

Besides, if he's going to make comments like that within earshot of the people he's talking about, he has to learn to expect repercussions.

"I know that if you just told him 'no' and **meant** it, he'd leave you alone!" Vaijon snapped back. "The gods aren't interested in unwilling Champions."

"Oh?" Wufei raised one eyebrow and eyed Vaijon skeptically. "Did they tell you that in person?"

"Everybody knows it!"

"Then I'd appreciate it if you would be so good as to tell K- **him**," Wufei snorted. "He doesn't seem to have gotten the message. In fact, he told me that the only way I can get him to stop nagging me is to give in and say 'yes'. Since he is a god, and I am **very** unwilling, it looks to me as if 'everybody' is wrong."

"I think 'everybody', in this case, means 'minstrels who have no idea of the truth'," Arwen drawled, strolling over. "There are a lot of ballads out there where the hero either decides very early that he should be a Champion and goes out to prove his worthiness, or is approached by a god and leaps at the chance. I haven't heard even one song where the god has to argue with his chosen representative to get him to accept the position, but that seems to be far more common."

"Nobody would try to refuse such an honour!" Vaijon said incredulously. "Nobody would **dare**!"

"I did," Arwen said, smiling thinly.

Vaijon's jaw dropped. "You- but- how could-"

"Well, you see, I used to believe that only people who were already high ranking- knights, nobles and so on- could possibly be worthy of being Champions," the ex-peasant Champion said dryly. "I certainly didn't think **I** measured up to the proper standard. Torframos disagreed, but it took him three months to get me to stop arguing."

"It only took him two weeks to get me to say 'yes'," Uthmar put in, "but I kept asking him if he was sure he'd made the right choice for about a year afterwards."

"I did some research after I finally agreed," Arwen continued, smile widening as Vaijon continued to goggle at him. "I had full access to the Order's records then, so it wasn't hard. Every single Champion of Torframos, all the way back to when the archives were rebuilt after the Fall of Kontovar, has expressed doubt that they were 'good enough' to serve. Most have tried to refuse... and the occasional afternoon I've managed to spend in other Orders' archives suggests that the same is true for the other Light gods' Champions. It seems that reluctant Champions are **exactly** what they want!"

"Of course, the Dark gods are different," Uthmar said, moving up to stand next to Wufei. "We don't know very much about how they select their Champions, apart from the obvious requirements that they have to somehow 'match' with the god in question, **and** be strong-willed enough not to go mad-"

"-or, at least, they have to last long enough to be useful **before** they go mad," Gunnar added cheerfully, grinning at Wufei.

"-but what we **do** know seems to suggest that they usually choose people who will leap at the chance to get the sort of power that comes with being a Champion," Uthmar finished, glaring briefly at his second-in-command. "They also tend to be **very** nasty pieces of work. Sir Wufei is **not** typical. And perhaps, before we get into another argument about what he may or may not be concealing, I should point out that Torframos himself **likes** him!" he added quickly as Vaijon opened his mouth.

"Yes, Vaijon, I've been saying 'no' and meaning it," Wufei said sarcastically, starting to relax, but still wanting to slap the idiot down a bit. "Unfortunately, Krashnark doesn't seem to subscribe to the principle of 'Just Say No', and... oh, **shit**."

"You called?"

Slowly, Wufei lifted one hand to cover his eyes, shoulders slumping. "Speak of the god and he appears. Damn. He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

"...Yep," Gunnar said, looking up at the faintly glowing figure looking hopefully down at Wufei.

The lay brothers and knights of the Order slowly began to back away as Wufei turned around to confront the god. "No. No! We are **not** going to start this again! I refuse! That's it! No 'maybe', no 'someday', no 'later', the answer is just **NO**!"

"But it's the **wrong** answer," Krashnark said gently.

"The only thing you are accomplishing here is to make me even more determined to keep saying NO!" Wufei shouted up at him. "Gods are usually supposed to have enough patience to wait thousands of years for something to happen! Why are you so determined to have me as your Champion **now** that you'll turn up ten times in one day to annoy me?!"

"Because I don't **have** thousands of years."

"...what?"

"You may be a demon, but you're also human," Krashnark said seriously, a faint crease appearing between his eyebrows as he- almost- looked worried. "Humans are... fragile. Ephemeral. Even if you live out your full lifetime, that's barely the blink of an eye by my standards... or you could die tomorrow, in some stupid accident, and there wouldn't be a thing I could do to prevent it. You're the first mortal being worth paying attention to I've seen in over three hundred years, and I don't want to lose whatever chance I may have because you trip and hit your head, or something equally pointless!"

Wufei blinked, momentarily speechless, and Krashnark leaned closer, voice shifting to a coaxing tone. "If you become my Champion, though, I can protect-"

"NO! Forget it!" Wufei yelled, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "Do not nag me! It will **not** work!"

"But-"

"I'm sorry I ever compared you to Relena! It was an insult to **her**! She at least has enough sense to go away when people are **screaming** at her!" Wufei spun on his heel and stalked away towards Nataku, glaring back over his shoulder to deliver one parting shot. "You are even more annoying than Duo at his worst, and he **tries** to get people angry!"

Krashnark watched him go until Nataku's hatch swung closed behind him; then he frowned, and directed an accusing glare at Sir Vaijon.

"He wouldn't be that upset if **you** hadn't been annoying him, you know," he said bitterly. And he vanished.

There was a long, stunned silence. Vaijon was staring wide-eyed at the spot where Krashnark had been, hyperventilating.

_=*...Well,*=_ Torframos' voice said in the back of Uthmar's and Arwen's minds. _=*__**That**__ was unexpected.*=_

- - - - - -

Wufei flung himself into the pilot's chair and slapped the control to close the hatch. Sitting back with his arms folded across his chest and his jaw clenched, he glanced upwards and started counting under his breath.

"Three... two... one..."

_=*I'm only trying to do what's best for __**you**__.*=_

"Right on time," he muttered sourly.

_=*I beg your pardon?*=_

"My idea of what's best for me is very different from yours," Wufei growled. "Go away and leave me **alone**!"

_=*I realise that you're annoyed at that arrogant blond idiot, but that's no reason to take it out on me.*=_

"...What?!" Wufei sputtered incoherently for a moment, and Krashnark's mental 'voice' went on obliviously.

_=*I can arrange for something to be done about him, if you want-*=_

"YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR MIND!" For a moment, Wufei wished Krashnark was physically present and visible, just so he could try to beat a little self-doubt into him. "I am angry at **you**! At your nagging, at your refusal to admit that I might have a valid point of view, at your arrogance- and you had the absolute blind gall to call **Vaijon** arrogant! Compared to you, he's positively modest and self-effacing! You've been coming up with dozens of reasons why I should become your Champion, and they all boil down to 'Because I Want You'. Well, you may be a god, but you are not **my** god, and I couldn't care less what you want! I will do what **I** want to do, according to my own values and within the limits set by my own honour, and that does **not** include becoming your Champion and leading a crusade for evil!"

Krashnark didn't answer immediately, but Wufei could feel that he hadn't left. He wasn't really surprised that it was taking the god a little while to formulate a reply; he rather suspected that he'd finally managed to come up with something Krashnark couldn't just brush off.

_I think that's been building up all day,_ he thought, trying to bring his breathing back to normal. _If I'm lucky, he'll have to go away and think about it. If I'm __**really**__ lucky, he might actually pay attention to what I've said, instead of-_

=*You'd understand if you could just look at this situation from my point of view,*= Krashnark told him.

_-that,_ Wufei finished with an internal grimace. "No," he said out loud, flicking open a small storage compartment and reaching inside. "You've got that the wrong way around. **You** would understand if you took a few seconds to look at the situation from **my** point of view."

_=*But you don't realise that-*=_

"Do you know what I find most annoying?" Wufei said conversationally, pulling out the bag of CDs Duo had left him and opening it. "It's not the fact that you're treating me as if I'm incapable of making my own decisions. It's not the way you ignore my arguments because I'm not parroting back what you say and therefore I **must** be wrong. It's not even the way that you didn't realise I was angry until I literally screamed at you- which made me look **stupid**- and then you didn't even consider that I might be angry at **you**." Finding what he wanted, he pulled out the disk labelled 'LOUD!' and shoved the bag back into its compartment, reaching over with his other hand to switch on Nataku's internal speaker system.

"It's the annoying little smug undertone that's always in your voice," he continued, almost cheerfully. "The one that says 'I **know** I'm going to win this argument'."

_=*I don't have-*=_

"There it is again!" Wufei said brightly, feeding the CD into the proper slot and hitting a random number on a keypad. "I'm really sick of hearing it."

The first notes of the selected track played out of the speakers, and a slightly manic grin spread over Wufei's face as he recognised what song it was. _I must remember to ask Uthmar if there's a god of Luck, or Chance. I think I may have just received some surreptitious help..._

This is possibly one of the stupidest things I've ever done, and it's going to hurt. Dealing with Krashnark seems to inspire me to new heights of stupidity. It's worth a try, though... and I should at least heal quickly.

=*...What are you doing?*= Krashnark asked, a note of doubt finally creeping into his voice.

"Blocking my ears won't work, since you can talk inside my head," Wufei told him, reaching out for the volume control. "So I decided to see what happens if I can't hear myself think." And he turned it up as far as it would go.

_I cannot take this any more  
Saying everything I've said before  
All these words they make no sense  
I find bliss in ignorance  
Less I hear the less you'll say  
But you'll find that out anyway..._

The music was loud enough to be felt as a physical blow, vibrating through Wufei's ribcage as he rocked in his seat. His eardrums seemed to be trying to meet in the middle of his head, but it was working; Krashnark was saying something, but Wufei couldn't make out any more than a few broken fragments of words. Grinning, he rocked harder and screamed along with the chorus.

_Just like before..._

Everything you say to me  
Takes me one step closer to the edge  
And I'm about to break!  
I need a little room to breathe  
'Cause I'm one step closer to the edge  
And I'm about to break!

"I hope you're paying attention for once, Krashnark!" he shouted, laughing.

_I find the answers aren't so clear..._

Wufei sang through the next verse and chorus, straining his throat as he automatically tried to sing loud enough to hear himself. At some point his left eardrum burst; he didn't realise what had happened until he felt something warm dripping down his neck, looked down, and saw blood. Shrugging, he gave the volume control an extra nudge to make sure it was right up there, and kept singing.

Then there was a momentary lull in the song, and Krashnark could make himself heard again.

_=*-injuring yourself! This is insane! Wufei? WUFEI! Stop this! There's no need for you to do this to yourself!*=_

Wufei's grin widened slightly as he bobbed his head in time with the music, waiting for the next vocal line.

_=*Are you even paying attention to me?! I-*=_

SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU!  
SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP!  
SHUT UP WHILE I'M TALKING TO YOU!  
I'M ABOUT TO BREAK!

Wufei sang along with the last chorus- after all, why should he stop when he was having fun for the first time that day? -then shut the sound system down and ejected the disk, careful not to get blood on it. There was a hollow ringing tone echoing through his head, and when he dropped the CD case onto the floor, he didn't hear it.

_I wonder how long it'll take for my hearing to come back?_ he thought mildly, swiping his hands over the sides of his neck and examining the bloody smears with detached interest. _I suppose it doesn't really matter... Karthan can let me know what people are saying, and I can probably manage something with my link to Nataku and her sensors..._

"Have I made my point clear?" he asked out loud, speaking slowly and carefully because he couldn't hear himself.

_=*...Yes,*=_ Krashnark replied quietly into his mind.

"Good. Am I going to have to repeat this little musical exorcism, or-"

_=*No! No... I understand. I... won't nag you. I don't want you to harm yourself again.*=_

"I will, if I have to," Wufei said grimly.

_=*You won't have to.*=_

- - - - - -

All eyes in the camp were on Nataku as the hatch opened and Wufei climbed out, making his way unsteadily over to where the Champions had set up their bedrolls.

"Wufei, what happ- he's bleeding!" Uthmar exclaimed, scrambling up. Karthan and Gunnar were immediately by the small demon's side, steadying him as he walked to his own bedroll and cautiously sat down.

"Are you all right?!" Naiya called, hurrying over. "Wufei?"

"I don't think he can hear you." Arwen took a quick look at Wufei's ears, then gently turned his head to face him. "Wufei? What happened?" he asked, speaking slowly and clearly.

He had to repeat the question before Wufei focussed on his mouth and understood it, but then the human/demon smiled.

"I finally found a way to make him shut up."


	24. Chapter 23

Wufei fell asleep even before Arwen finished cleaning the blood off him, and slept as if drugged until the members of the Order of Torframos started packing up the camp around him. Whatever woke him, it wasn't a noise; he still couldn't hear anything when he opened his eyes, though his ears had stopped hurting.

_Looks like I was right when I thought that my link to Nataku would make me heal quickly again,_ he mused, sitting up and stifling a yawn. _I'd still be in serious pain if I had to heal normally..._

Ye gods. What if I _**hadn't**__ been right?_

Exposure to certain irrational personages is clearly making me behave irrationally myself, he thought sourly, shooting a quick glare upwards. _Even if deafening myself did get him to leave me alone- for now- it was still a stupid thing to do. And if I don't get my hearing back quickly, it could be more than just inconvenient. We __**are**__ heading towards a battle, after all..._

A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention, and he looked around to see Naiya and Terrin hurrying towards him. The tall Hradani girl knelt down beside his bedroll, peering anxiously at his ears before saying something.

"I still can't hear," he told her, hoping he wasn't speaking too loud or mispronouncing anything. A look of dismay crossed her face, and he quickly added, "I'll get better!"

- - - - - -

"You did say the cuts and bruises he had when he first arrived healed overnight," Terrin shrugged, glancing from the demon to Naiya and back again. "I know the wound he got in the fight with that green thing got better quickly, too. Maybe that's just the way it works for him?"

"But eardrums don't heal," Naiya said miserably. "Or even if they do, people don't get their hearing back!"

"They do if a priest or Champion heals them," he pointed out, "and metal doesn't normally grow back into place, either, but that didn't stop Nataku. I don't think even Wufei would be this calm if he thought he'd be deaf for good!"

"A Champion," she said, seizing on the first part of what he'd said. "We've got two Champions here! I'll go get them."

Wufei looked quizzically at Terrin as Naiya ran off, and the hunter shrugged again, rolling his eyes. "Women," he muttered.

It wasn't long before Naiya returned, looking as if she would have preferred to tow Uthmar at speed rather than just walking beside him. Arwen and Karthan followed, looking rather amused.

"Go ahead," Naiya told Uthmar, in a voice that was just short of an order. "Heal his ears."

"Er... I'm afraid I can't."

Karthan glanced at Wufei and raised an eyebrow; Wufei nodded and they both seemed to concentrate for a moment. There was a brief greenish-white flicker in Wufei's eyes, and when he looked back at the others it was clear that he was following the conversation.

"Why not?" Naiya demanded.

The dwarf Champion sighed. "Some priests of Khalifrio and Lillinara can heal, and so can some of the magi who follow Semkirk. They can heal anybody. Champions, on the other hand... even if they have the right sort of mindset to heal, which I do, they can't heal anybody they don't know well. I don't know Wufei well enough. I'd have to build a picture in my head of Wufei as he **should** be, clear enough for Torframos' power to reach through me and make the picture real. I might be able to succeed if the problem was something less subtle, like a swordcut, but... well, hearing is a tricky sense to fix at the best of times."

"Oh," Naiya bit her lip, and looked at Arwen. "And you can't..."

"I know him even less than Sir Uthmar does, and I've never even **tried** to heal," Arwen said quickly, holding up his hands in an oh-no-not-me sort of gesture. "I probably can- most Champions can, at least a little- but it's not something I want to casually experiment with!"

"I think I should point out that I am healing all by myself, thank you," Wufei said dryly, voice much clearer than before.

"You can hear again?" Terrin asked, blinking in surprise. "That was quick."

"Not yet; I'm 'borrowing' Karthan's ears," Wufei corrected him. "I do seem to be healing fast, though, so it shouldn't take too long."

"And if necessary, he can always use me as a template to heal himself again," Karthan volunteered cheerfully.

Wufei frowned at him. "The last time I did that, I transferred some of my wounds to you. I'd rather not."

"You also fixed my ribs," Karthan shot back, "and the cuts on my back healed a **lot** quicker than normal. Not as fast as yours, perhaps, but I still think I did quite well from the exchange."

"It might actually be a good idea," Arwen said, exchanging looks with Uthmar. "We expect to reach the area where the temple is before midday tomorrow, which means that we'll be within easy range of an attack from this afternoon on. It wouldn't be wise for anyone to be handicapped in any way."

"We were in easy range of an attack back at the village," Wufei pointed out dryly. "Or have you forgotten the screaming green blob?"

"It's doubtful whether they can summon another demon so soon after the last one," Uthmar said. "For one thing, it's damned dangerous. For another, they need two suitable sacrifices; one to power the summoning, and one to bind the demon to whatever task they set it. Because the temple was built out here-" He waved one hand at the uninhabited woods on one side and the rocky hills on the other. "-it's much less likely to be found by accident, but it's also much harder for them to find sacrifices. Even if they **do** find them, one disappearance from a small village is much more noticeable than a dozen in a city."

"'Suitable'?"

Karthan grimaced. "The Dark gods' followers haven't exactly given us a list of their requirements, but we have a fair idea. They want sacrifices that will release a lot of energy as they die, so... Preferably young. Preferably virgins. Usually female, because that makes it easier to be sure they're virgins."

"Why is that?" Naiya interrupted. "Why does being a virgin make a difference?"

"The more unfulfilled potential somebody has, the more energy they hold," Arwen shrugged. "If you're young, you have a lot of years ahead of you, and by killing you, the priest destroys that potential. It's the same if you're a virgin; you have the potential to- er-" He blushed. "Uh, you have that potential as well, but you haven't, er, used it."

"Intelligence counts, too," Karthan continued, grinning at Arwen's embarrassment. "So does magical talent of any kind. In an emergency, however, anyone could be a potential sacrifice."

"So, they probably can't summon another demon, but we shouldn't count on it?" Wufei summed up. At Uthmar's nod he sighed, propping his chin on one hand. "Wonderful. I hate 'maybes'."

"Well, **maybe** you'll need your hearing," Karthan told him sweetly, teeth gleaming for a moment in his beard as his grin widened. "**Maybe** you should do something about it, to make sure you don't end up with a nasty surprise."

"And **maybe** you should consider the fact that I may not be able to heal you, but I do know **Karthan** well enough to heal him if your injuries transfer to him," Uthmar added, cutting in before Wufei could refuse again. "Hmm?"

Wufei stared at him wide-eyed, then shook his head, smiling a little sheepishly. "I never even thought of that. All right; I can hardly keep listening through Karthan's ears all day, after all!"

* * * * *

Duo let out a quiet groan as he flopped back onto the bed, face scrunched up in pain. "Not gonna happen," he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Damn it."

"I would not feel bad, if I were you, Mister Maxwell," Dr. Modi said soothingly, carefully lifting Duo's leg back onto the bed and fitting the brace around it. "You are already far ahead of any normal patients; very few people try to bend their leg the day after the ligament surgery, and it usually takes six or seven days before they succeed."

"Yeah, well, no offense intended, Doc, but being in the hospital kinda sucks, you know?" Duo said tightly. "The sooner I bend my knee, the sooner I get out of here, and the sooner I can get on with the exercises and get better."

"You **were** listening when Dr. Po and I mentioned the fact that if you push yourself too far, you will knock yourself straight back to 'crippled' status, weren't you?" Modi inquired politely.

"I don't intend to go beyond my knee's limits. I **am** going to push things up to those limits, though."

"So long as you listen to me when I tell you that you are approaching those limits, I have no objection to that," the doctor sighed. "And, speaking of limits, one of them is that it would not be wise to take this brace off and- er- 'practice' knee-bending by yourself."

"Even if I was stupid enough to do that, Heero wouldn't let me," Duo muttered, mouth twisting in a half-exasperated, half-amused smile. "Don't worry."

"Speaking of Mister Yui, I believe he is waiting outside with a package that smells suspiciously like hot meatball sandwiches," Modi chuckled. "I do hope some form of vegetable matter is going to feature in your dinner as well."

"I asked him to get me a side salad, too," Duo grinned back. "I even plan to eat it, which should keep all my mother hens content for a couple of hours."

- - - - - -

Hearing his name called, Heero turned and saw Trowa and Quatre walking towards him.

"is something wrong?" Quatre said anxiously, hurrying the last few steps. "Why are you standing out here?"

"Duo's trying to bend his knee," Heero said shortly. "He didn't want me there watching, so he sent me to get dinner."

"**Already**?! He just had the surgery yesterday!"

"The doctor said it was okay, so I wasn't going to tell Duo he couldn't try it if he wanted to!" Heero snapped, glaring at Quatre. "If you think it's too soon, **you** tell him!" _You can be the one getting yelled at for being overprotective for a change,_ he added mentally, shifting the takeaway bag he was holding to his other hand and looking away.

"Sounds reasonable to me," Trowa said quietly, putting a calming hand on Quatre's arm. The blond reddened and also looked away, biting back an angry retort.

"...Sorry," he said eventually. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Heero shrugged, relaxing slightly. "It's the same reaction I had, so I can't blame you." _Though thankfully, I managed not to say it out loud!_ "How's Duo's furniture? Pink?"

"No," Trowa said, smirking.

"It's not just Duo's furniture," Quatre blurted out, near-argument forgotten. "Relena furnished the entire house! And **none** of it's pink! It's **fabulous**!"

"We have discovered that Relena has taste," Trowa put in. "We have also discovered that Pargan can pick locks."

Before Heero could think of a reply to that, the door to Duo's room opened behind him.

"I am no longer torturing your friend, so you are welcome once more," Dr. Modi said cheerfully, stepping out. "Please hide the takeaway containers if you hear this shift's floor nurse approaching- even **I** get out of her way- and do not tell me what you are doing to get rid of the hospital meals Mister Maxwell is obviously not consuming. I should probably be thankful that the plumbing in this building is so good."

- - - - - -

"I can take it," Duo announced, clutching at the blankets and visibly bracing himself. "Give it to me straight. How pink is it?"

"No pink," Quatre assured him. "No ruffles, either. It's... ah... much better than any of us expected!"

"Well, since I, for one, was expecting something out of the Ninth Circle of Girly Hell, it could still be pretty bad," Duo told him, relaxing and starting to unpack his dinner.

"It's fine," Quatre said, exchanging glances with Trowa. "I think you should wait until you see it for yourself, but even you will have to admit it's fine."

"What, I don't get any details?" Duo protested. "No photos? No colour swatches? I want to know how much I should cringe when I walk in!"

Heero smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "If Quatre says it's fine, you won't have to cringe at all. Eat your dinner."

"Quatre wears pastel shirts," Duo muttered, keeping his face straight with an effort.

"Quatre knows that **you** don't," Heero retorted. "Eat!"

"Real men are secure enough that they **can** wear pastel shirts and eat quiche," Quatre said loftily. "I- Duo, what is **that**?!"

"A deluxe meatball sandwich with extra sauce and cheese," Duo said almost lovingly, lifting his prize out of its tinfoil wrapping and admiring it. "**Real** food, not that cardboard crap they give you here."

"Shouldn't you be eating something a little healthier while you're convalescing? More balanced?"

"Yes, mother," Duo said dryly, lifting a tub of salad out of the bag and waving it. "Way ahead of you, mother."

"Duo..." Heero murmured warningly. "Less teasing, more eating."

"Or else what?" Duo's voice was light, but there was a dangerous sparkle in his eyes, suggesting that Heero's response had better not be too authoritarian. Quatre winced inwardly, waiting for the explosion.

"Or else it'll get cold, and the cheese will go all... what was that word you used about a pizza a while ago?" Heero replied calmly. "Ah. Yes, 'manky'. I have no idea what it means, but I gather it isn't good, and I didn't go out and buy that thing so you could let it get manky."

Explosion averted, Duo snorted and took a huge bite, chewing happily; then he paused, eyes widening. "Heero," he said after swallowing, "I'm fairly sure I haven't eaten pizza near you for quite a while. When did I use the word 'manky' in your hearing?"

"Approximately... Three and a half months ago."

"And you **remembered** it?!"

Heero shrugged one shoulder, looking away. "I remember almost everything you ever said to me."

Watching Duo's slow blush and shy smile in Heero's direction, Quatre raised one eyebrow and leaned back against Trowa's warm chest. _If that's true- and Heero may be a lot of things, but a romantically inventive liar he is not- it's a good sign that Heero really does care for Duo, and has for some time. And the fact that he was willing to say it, in public..._

Nudging Trowa surreptitiously as he straightened up, he cleared his throat and smiled at Heero and Duo. "We really just came to say 'hi' and ask if there was anything we could bring either of you," he said, not entirely truthfully. "There's still a lot of unpacking to do, so we need to get back to the house."

"You don't have **that** much portable stuff," Duo objected.

"Not in the way of personal possessions, no," Trowa told him, following Quatre's lead, "but we now have a full set of kitchen and dining essentials, courtesy of Relena, including 'every day' and 'visitors' sets of plates and cutlery. We also have two lots of audiovisual gear to set up; and you didn't really think we were going to leave your personal stuff for you to take care of when you get out of the hospital, did you?"

- - - - - -

"I take it you had some reason to hustle out of there?"

Quatre had the good grace to look embarrassed as he slid behind the wheel of the car. "I thought they might appreciate a little time alone."

Trowa shot a sideways glance at him from under his bangs, and smiled. "So... does this mean you're finally willing to trust Heero with Duo's heart?"

"Well, at least he's honestly trying," Quatre muttered, starting the engine. "If he's willing to make a genuine effort and Duo's willing to let him try, I'm not willing to stick around playing gooseberry when it looks like he's actually getting somewhere."

"And you tell Duo he comes up with strange expressions," Trowa murmured, stifling a snicker. "'Gooseberry'?"

"Three's a crowd," Quatre said primly, concentrating on the road. "Or in this case, four. You know what I mean!"

"Yes, love, but occasionally you need footnotes."

* * * * *

Relena took a deep breath, biting her lip as she looked at the perfectly ordinary door; then she took a firmer grip on her packages and knocked quickly, before she could change her mind.

Heero opened the door, stiffening slightly as he saw who it was. "Relena," he said, voice flat, but eyes wary.

_I wouldn't have noticed that a week ago,_ she observed with a sort of morbid humour. "Heero, good evening," she replied, keeping her voice low and even. "I came to see Duo. Is he... ah..." Quickly, Relena mentally deleted 'awake' and substituted another term. "Receiving visitors?"

"I'll find out." The door swung almost shut.

Inside the room, still holding the door handle, Heero leaned back until he had a clear view of Duo. "Relena's here," he said blandly, grimacing and pointing at the door. "Are you up for another visitor?" 'I'll send her away if you want,' he mouthed silently, knowing that Duo could read lips.

Duo quickly wound his braid around his neck and yanked upwards, gagging silently, then dropped the pantomime and nodded. "Sure, why not?" he said cheerfully, disentangling himself from his hair. "Come on in, Relena!"

"How are you feeling?" she asked, side-stepping past Heero with her arms full of carry bags. Her eyes flicked down to the bulky lump under the blankets that was his leg in the brace, then lifted determinedly to his face again. "I hope you weren't trying to rest; I would have come sooner, but I couldn't get away from the Ministry."

"Ahh, I'm doing okay," he said, waving one hand dismissively. "I like to think of this as a possible first stage towards becoming a bionic superhuman... if somebody ever invents a way of doing augmentation surgery without all of the boring hospital and recuperation bits, that is."

"I'm sure there are research teams working on that problem even as we speak," she murmured, managing a strained smile. "The usual fruits and flowers didn't seem exactly... appropriate as hospital gifts for you, so I brought you these instead."

"All **right**," he said admiringly, raising an eyebrow as she pulled a huge deluxe chocolate assortment out of the largest carry bag and handed it to him. "This is way better than the watery chocolate pudding they described as 'dessert' today! Quatre's going to flip over the whole 'unhealthy eating' thing again, though."

"About a quarter of that is actually chocolate-covered crystallised fruit," Relena pointed out. "Tell him it has vitamin C in it. And there's these, in case you get bored..." Two hand-held game machines, a selection of program disks, and a cable to join them up for two-player games appeared out of the other bags.

"Oh, hey, thanks, Relena," Duo said, now slightly bemused. "I appreciate it really, but you didn't have to..."

"In other words, I never have before, so why now. Am I right?" she asked quietly, looking back and forth between Heero and Duo. "If I heard that **Heero** was in the hospital, I'd drop everything to visit him, and Quatre might get flowers, but the rest of you... the most attention I've paid to your injuries in the past has been something like 'How are you, Duo? Getting better? That's nice. Where's Heero?' Right?"

"Well... I wouldn't have put it exactly like that, unless you really pissed me off, but... yeah, that sounds about right," Duo agreed slowly. Heero straightened up from his spot leaning against the wall, frowning.

"Well, if you had told me that was how I was acting a week ago, I think I would have angrily denied any such bias, and then would have filed it away as one more reason why I shouldn't waste time associating with you," Relena said shakily, hunting in her handbag for a tissue as her eyes began to tear up. "I'm sure you can see the little logical error there."

"Relena, Queenie, babe, don't go all watery on me here!" Duo exclaimed, sitting up in alarm. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"May I speak to you alone, Duo? Please? I need to apologise, and explain what I'm apologising for, and I honestly don't think I can if..." Relena trailed off, almost wincing as she glanced over at Heero again, and Duo nodded.

"Ah, yeah, I think I can manage that," he muttered, making a 'beats me' face in reply to Heero's questioning glance over Relena's bowed head. "Sorry to boot you out twice in one day, Heero, but you have to admit this qualifies as special circumstances."

"Agreed," the Japanese pilot grimaced. "I'll get coffee, and take my time. How do you want yours, Relena?"

"No, I don't- I don't need-"

"Little bit of milk, half a sugar," Duo interrupted, waving off her objections. "Hot drinks are good in stressful situations, so you **do** need it, Relena. A couple of extra sugars might be a good idea, too."

Relena blinked at him in surprise as Heero nodded and went out. "You know how I take my coffee?"

"I've made it for you a few times," he shrugged.

"Yes, but- you bothered to **remember**-" A tear trickled down her cheek, and she hastily wiped at her eyes again, sniffing. "That's exactly the sort of thing I've been ignoring. You've always been nice to me, even when I must have been so annoying, and... well, a couple of times I've asked for coffee as an excuse to get you out of the room so I could be alone with Heero, and looking back I think you must have realised it-"

"Ohhhh yeah," Duo muttered under his breath.

"-but you never gave me **bad** coffee," she continued miserably. "And you remembered."

"Yes, well, this isn't about remembering your coffee preferences," Duo said uncomfortably. "At least, I don't think it is. What **is** it about?"

Relena looked down at the damp tissue in her hands for a few seconds, then started slowly shredding it. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I have been fixated on Heero for quite some time," she said in a low voice. "Obsessed, even. **I** thought it was fate, or destiny, or something equally poetic, bringing us together, and of **course** he would be strong and silent and hide his feelings until the war was over and he was free of that responsibility, and then... happily ever after. The hero wins the princess. All the cliches."

"I take it you've changed your mind?" Duo's eyes narrowed as he studied what he could see of Relena's face. _This was __**not**__ what I expected,_ he thought. _I would have bet that she'd decided the way to Heero's heart was through being nice to his friends, but... this sounds like she's giving up._

"Not exactly. I suppose you could say that I had the truth forcibly introduced to me." Relena managed a thin, tight smile, sniffed, and continued tissue-shredding. "I'm sure you also noticed that I filtered everything to do with Heero through my... little romantic fantasy... and everything that didn't fit in it was ignored or reinterpreted. Heero was the hero, so of **course** anyone who shot him automatically became the bad guy, no matter what their motives might have been. Thank you for saving my life that time, by the way," she added, glancing up at Duo with another watery smile. "I don't believe I was properly appreciative at the time."

"You could say that," Duo muttered, grinning back. "No thanks needed, ma'am; saving pretty ladies is a perk, not a duty. Go on."

"Well." Relena's smile twisted, and she looked away. "I went on like that for quite some time... until the last time I showed up unannounced at your safehouse. You fell, and hurt your knee again, and Heero..." She swallowed. "I saw his face when... He loves you, doesn't he?"

It was Duo's turn to wince. "We're... kinda working that out," he said slowly. "But... yeah. I think so."

"Well, I thought so too, and I didn't take it well," she said bitterly. "I was furious. Heero was supposed to be with **me**, after all; nobody else should have been in the picture. So, I nearly..." She took a deep breath. "I nearly did something unforgivable."

"**Nearly**?" Duo asked. "We are clear on the 'nearly' part, right? I'm not going to have a hit squad kick in my window, here, am I?"

"Nearly," Relena confirmed, not smiling at the almost-joke. "I thought... if I could get Heero to reject you, somehow, everything would be okay. I went looking for something you'd done that I could use, something that would revolt Heero. And when I didn't find anything, I considered making something up. Having evidence manufactured. But then-"

_- -I saw that photo- -_

"...I realised what I was doing wasn't anything to do with love. If I really **did** love Heero, I should have been able to talk to him about it. I should have been asking him what **he** wanted, not trying to stuff him into my picture of the perfect love and pruning off the bits that didn't fit. Like you, and his friends." She sighed heavily, wiping her eyes again. "So, I did some serious thinking, and worked out what I was really after. I'd convinced myself that I was in love, because that was the sort of thing I thought was **supposed** to happen, but... after the first flush of infatuation was gone, I think what I was after was a friend."

"Relena... you have **lots** of friends!"

"I have sycophants, and hangers-on, and yes-people," Relena corrected him. "I don't have anyone who will disagree with me, or tell me I'm doing something stupid, or who likes me just because they **like** me, not because I'm famous or can do something for them. I have a lot of people who want to be able to say 'Oh, the Vice-Foreign Minister and I are **so** close,' but nobody who will tell me 'That outfit looks **awful**, Relena, where did you leave your dress sense today?' Pargan is the closest I come to having a real friend, but he'd never dream of stepping over the line dividing servant and employer." She snorted, a suprisingly unladylike sound. "Heero might not have been the Knight in Shining Gundanium I thought he was, but he also wasn't a- a **toady**. He didn't fall all over himself with delight when I gave him a party invitation, he ignored me instead of hanging on my every word... he was **honest** with me, instead of changing his opinions to match what I said. I might have gotten the wrong idea about why I wanted to have more to do with him, but at least I recognised that he had something I needed." She looked up at Duo again, managing her first real smile since she'd walked in the door. "I got so caught up with him, though, I never saw that the rest of you were just like him in some ways. **You've** certainly never tried to flatter your way into my 'clique'!"

"Relena," Duo said seriously, "you couldn't **pay** me to get into your 'clique'!"

"To be honest, if I had the option, **I** wouldn't be in my 'clique'," Relena sighed. "I liked it when I was in school, but now that I'm trying to do something serious, I don't **want** to have twenty invitations a week to lunches and afternoon teas where nobody would ever dream of discussing something as boorish as **politics**." She grimaced, balling up the mess of limp tissue fragments in her hand and dropping them into the bin beside the bed. "Getting back to why I'm here... I've treated you abominably, Duo, and I was willing to ruin your life to get what I thought I wanted. I'm truly sorry. I know perfectly well I can't just say that, and give you a few presents, and have everything be miraculously all right, but I **can** try to start over and behave properly this time... treat you as yourself and not the villain of my imagined love story. That is... if you're willing to have me around."

Duo picked up one of the game disks scattered over the bed, and studied it, jaw working slightly. "Let me get this straight," he said eventually. "You've basically been a bitch on wheels to me since I saved your life. The **first** time I saved your life, that is, not any of the... I think it's four times since then. Now you've seen the light and smelled the coffee, so you want to start over and be friends this time. **Real** friends, that is, not just acquaintances or wishy-washy don't-really-care friends. Does that about cover it?"

"...Yes," Relena whispered.

"Okay."

"...Okay?"

"Yeah. I don't have that many friends, so one more would be a good thing. You can never have too many friends, after all. And you didn't actually get around to ruining my life... By the way," he added casually, a slight edge in his voice betraying his tension, "what **did** you find out while you were digging for dirt in my metaphorical back yard?"

_More than you ever want anyone to know, I think._ "I found out that you're a very hard person to track," Relena said honestly, wiping away fresh tears, and smiling at him. "I found out that you stand by your friends... in fact, you're the sort of person I wanted to think **I** was. Which just made me more angry at you!" she exclaimed, mock-glaring at Duo as he relaxed minutely. "I was trying to find reasons for Heero to **not** love you, not evidence that you were exactly the sort of person he **should** love!"

"Yeah, well, some of us just have to suffer under these burdens of greatness," he grinned. "So, starting over... My first piece of advice to you as your friend, is to lose the pink limo! Or at least have it repainted. Pink is not a good colour for that car. You should probably ditch the pastels out of your wardrobe, too. That royal blue dress is the best thing I've seen you wear, and you'd look killer in deep red. Just wait 'til they let me up and about, and we'll go shopping."

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Heero's voice called, "Can I come in, or should I go and retune an ambulance engine or two?"

"Great timing, Heero! Welcome back," Duo called. "Come on in, all is forgiven... literally." As Heero nudged the door open and walked in, carefully carrying three jumbo cups of coffee, the braided teen continued. "We're starting over, okay? This is my new friend, 'Lena. She's got a famous surname, but that doesn't matter. 'Lena, this is my boyfriend, Heero, a very useful guy to have around..."

Heero stopped short, coffee sloshing slightly, and stared at Duo.

_...Boyfriend?_

Slowly, a faint, hopeful smile quirked the corner of his mouth.


	25. Chapter 24

Relena saw Heero's smile and knew she had made the right decision. The love and hope in that expression were clear... now that she was actually looking for it, not expecting to see it aimed at **her**.

Heero handed over her coffee and immediately turned to Duo, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. Momentarily ignored, she watched as Duo smiled up at his friend- _no, __**boyfriend**__, he said it and I can admit it now_ -watched as Heero's hand lingered on Duo's as the second cup was handed over, and nodded to herself.

_This is right,_ she thought. _It feels right. They belong together. Somehow I don't think I would have been able to drive them apart, no matter what I did... and now I'll do whatever I can to support them and be their friend. Duo is right. __**Real**__ friends are hard to find, and you can never have too many. Maybe I can't have the sort of 'happily ever after' I was trying for, but this sort of happiness might even be better-_

A touch on her shoulder made her jump, and she looked up from her coffee to see Heero eyeing her curiously. "Are you all right, Relena?"

"I'm fine... now," Relena replied, managing a smile of her own, feeling more hopeful than she had since the war started. "I was just thinking."

"Oooh, deep thoughts from a pretty lady," Duo chuckled. "Care to share?"

"I wouldn't call them deep, exactly," she said, trying for an airy tone of voice and almost making it. Telling the truth about what she'd been thinking would tell Heero entirely too much about what she'd confessed while he was out of the room, so she cast around for a quick distraction... _Ah._ "And I don't really know if I should share them, Duo. Your scary **boyfriend**, here, might take offence if he knew I was contemplating stealing you away from him and locking you up in my castle-" She broke off, hiding her face behind her coffee mug and hoping she hadn't gone too far.

Heero snorted, nearly spitting out his coffee, and Duo broke into peals of laughter, poking the Japanese teen in the ribs. "That was a good one, 'Lena!" Duo sputtered, before catching sight of Heero's expression and snickering again. "Heh... Off the cuff, quick, and funny as hell. There's hope for you yet. Come to the Dark Side, Pretty!"

Recovering his composure, Heero lightly swatted Duo on the head. "I wouldn't corrupt her too far if I were you. Remember, she bought all your furniture and still has the receipts. What if she decides to start playing pranks and replaces it all with **pink** stuff?" He smirked slightly at Relena, and she nearly wilted with relief.

_It's okay, I didn't ruin it,_ she thought. _They're treating me like any other friend joking with them..._ Looking at Duo's horrified expression, she broke into giggles of her own.

"You wouldn't do that, would you, 'Lena?" the braided teen begged desperately. "No pink, please... promise me?!"

"Ooh, I hadn't thought of that! Leverage! Hmmm..." She paused, one finger on her bottom lip, feigning indecision. "Well, I suppose. No pink, I promise, on one condition."

"Anything, I swear!" Duo said dramatically, hands clasped to his chest. The pose was rather spoilt by the mock glare he shot in Heero's direction. "You **had** to bring up the P-word, didn't you?"

"My condition is this," Relena said regally, stifling a giggle at the equally fake innocent look Heero returned Duo's glare with. "You follow the doctor's orders. You take me wardrobe shopping as soon as you can get around, and you let me take you and Heero out to dinner, **and** you invite me to your house for dinner and a swim in your pool. How's that?"

"That's 'one' condition?" Duo asked sceptically.

"There are all sorts of shades of pink, you know," Relena said sweetly. "Rose. Shell-pink. **Baby** pink. Blush. Fuschia..."

"Uncle!" he yelped, snatching a tissue out of the box by his bed and waving it like a flag of surrender. "I give! Total capitulation! I'll meet your terms, just don't torture your prisoners!" Grinning, he dropped the tissue and stretched. "They're easy enough terms, anyway. I already said I'd take you shopping - Trowa and Quatre say the furniture and stuff is good, so you've got colour sense, Pretty, you just don't apply it to yourself - and we'll get Trowa to cook something different for dinner... I know! Something like tacos or mmfmphm..."

"You know, if OZ had worked out your secret weakness, Duo, Une could have taken you out any time with a mediaeval catapult and some pink paint bombs," Heero said casually, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his hand had somehow found its way over Duo's mouth. "Considering the number of times you threatened to repaint the rest of the Gundams - and the two times you **did** - I think that would have been poetic justice at work."

Duo raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly down towards the offending hand, then looked directly into Relena's eyes and winked. She stifled a giggle at the wicked gleam in the blue-violet eyes—

"OW! Duo! That hurt!" Heero yelped, snatching his hand back and rubbing at the bitten part of his palm, glaring impartially at the offender and the laughing girl.

"On that note," Relena said, standing up, "I need to go. I have an early meeting tomorrow, and hours of research to get through first. Ah, Duo... may I come back tomorrow afternoon? I'm going to need some advice. If we manage to unify the nations, we're going to need a single peacekeeping force. I'll have more information then, and maybe you two can help me sort it out? Quatre and Trowa too, if they can be here?"

Duo nodded, ignoring Heero's frown. "Sure, Pretty. You know when visiting hours are; just pop on in."

"That would be wonderful, thank you. I'm free from two onwards, so if you could arrange things with the others...?"

"No problem, Relena," Heero said. "I'll call them in the morning and ask them to come here at three or so."

"Perfect," Relena sighed, walking towards the door. "I wish all my meetings were this easy to schedule." She paused in the doorway, glancing back. "Duo... why do you keep calling me 'Pretty'...?"

Duo grinned. "Because it suits you, Pretty. See you tomorrow!"

- - - - - -

Heero tucked Duo in under the covers again, kissed his forehead, and was turning to move to his own cot when he felt a tug on his arm.

"What is it, Duo?" he asked quietly.

The braided teen hesitated for a moment, face serious. "I just wanted to say thanks," he blurted out. "And sorry..."

Heero blinked. "Thanks and sorry for what?" he asked, honestly puzzled.

"Umm... thanks for how you acted with Relena. For going along with it... She's really not a bad person. I think she can be a good friend, now that she's over the whole obsession thing." He sighed. "And sorry for forcing it on you without talking it over with you first. It's fair enough if you don't **want** to be friends with her just yet, since you're the one she's been stalking. And sorry for biting you... I didn't mean for it to hurt that much. It was kind of- well, I wanted to let her-"

Heero nodded, brushing Duo's bangs back out of his eyes. "You wanted to make her feel comfortable. Included. Like she was a part of the group," he said, a tiny smile appearing on his face when Duo's eyes widened in surprise. "I recognised what you were doing; you did it to all of us at the beginning of the war, after all. As for the bite, it really didn't hurt that much. Like you said, I was going along with it." He frowned, sobering. "If you think things will work out this way - Relena as a friend - I'll back you up. But if she hurts you..."

Duo blushed, eyes glowing above a crooked smile. "I'm really glad you're here, you know that?"

"I do now," Heero replied softly. "Now, go to sleep. There's a lot planned for tomorrow and you need your rest."

"True," Duo said ruefully, stifling a sudden yawn. "Damn the power of suggestion, anyway! I didn't feel sleepy until you said that..." His arm snaked out again, stopping the Japanese teen as he turned away. "You can sleep here, you know. If you want to..."

"Duo... are you sure?"

The braided teen nodded, starting to shift over so there would be room on the bed for Heero next to him. "Maybe I'll be able to sleep better if you're here. Please, Heero?"

There was no way Heero could refuse after that. _The nightmares must be getting worse, if he's willing to mention them even obliquely..._ "If you turn on your side and curl up a bit," he offered tentatively, "I can slide in behind you without bothering your knee, I think."

A little more adjustment was required before Duo was comfortable, including placing the thin pillow from Heero's cot between his knees so that the brace wouldn't cause bruises, but it didn't take long before Heero was carefully settling against Duo's back and wrapping his arm around the thin waist. "Is this OK?"

"Yeah, s'good. 'Night, Heero..."

"Goodnight, Duo," Heero murmured, firmly telling his mental 'alarm clock' to wake him before the nurses made their rounds in the morning. He was just dozing off, more content than he could remember ever being before, when a sleep-slurred voice got his attention.

"Don' think this means y' c'n boss me 'round an' make m' decisions f'r me, Heero. Y' still got making up t' do."

"Mm-hm," Heero sighed, tightening his arm and snuggling closer as he followed his boyfriend into slumber. "All my life, if you'll let me..."

* * * * *

Once again, Wufei found himself in a foul mood, stalking through the bustle that attended setting up camp; but this time the reason behind his bad temper was different. True to his word, Krashnark had stopped nagging him... but he hadn't stopped **watching** him, and whatever sense it was that let Wufei tell when the god was hovering over his shoulder had been working overtime all day. Several hours of piloting Nataku at a frustratingly slow pace, senses and sensors alert for any sign of an attack, unable to conveniently talk to anyone and with the skin on the back of his neck prickling at irregular intervals, had not been particularly restful.

_Actually, the reason - reasons - are precisely the same as last time,_ he thought without any trace of humour. _A variety of frustrations, including what I can only term __**homesickness**__, damn it, aggravated by Kr- __**his**__ behaviour... and this time I can't even legitimately yell at him about it._

Not that I particularly _**want**__ to yell at him, or talk to him at all, but it might be cathartic..._

"Another bad day, Sir Wufei?" Uthmar asked from behind him.

_And I HATE the fact that something as petty as this is making me lose my composure enough for it to show!_ Wufei thought viciously.

Several deep breaths later, he thought he had a reasonable chance of answering the question without anything... unfortunate... happening. To either of them.

"You could call it that, Sir Uthmar. It's nothing you need to concern yourself over, however."

"Ah." The dwarf champion smiled sympathetically. "Problems with **him**?" he said, more a statement than a query, pointing upwards.

"Actually... not particularly," Wufei admitted, suppressing his first impulse to snap back. "I can tell that he's there, but he's keeping to his promise and not actually bothering me."

"Well, that's something at least," Uthmar grinned. "So, if you don't mind me asking... what **is** bothering you, if it's not him?"

_I do mind._ Wufei considered actually saying that out loud for a moment, and then discarded the idea. _It would hardly be either polite or fair. And besides... what __**is**__ really bothering me?_

It didn't take much thought to work it out.

"I have no way of telling what is happening to my... friends," Wufei admitted quietly. "I didn't come here deliberately, you know; I'm still not sure what happened, but I was somehow pulled out of the middle of a battle. A battle my side was in danger of **losing**. And since we were in trouble even with all five of us present and fighting..." He broke off, looking away, and Uthmar winced.

"You're stuck here, wondering if your friends are even still alive," he sighed. "I... see. My apologies, Sir Wufei; I didn't realise-"

The Chinese pilot snorted. "You haven't done anything that requires an apology. I'm the one who's behaving like a bear with a sore head... as Duo would say."

"I wouldn't go that far. You haven't bitten anyone yet, or even growled particularly loudly."

A faint, breathy laugh escaped Wufei. "That's also something Duo would say. Thank you."

"I think I'd like meeting this Duo person, though we might regret it if he and Gunnar had the chance to conspire together. Are you hungry? Terrin caught several rabbits, so we have fresh meat, and Naiya said she was going to show our cook how to prepare them 'properly' - I don't think she's been particularly impressed with the meals so far."

"Judging by the few comments I've overheard her muttering to her plate, I think you're right," the Chinese pilot said dryly. "If it's all right with you, I'll eat later; now that we're closer to the temple, I should make sure Nataku's sensors are working properly."

Uthmar shot a glance up at Wufei from under raised eyebrows, making it perfectly clear without words that he recognised the excuse for what it was, and then smiled. "Certainly... but if Naiya gets offended because you let her cooking get cold, **you'll** have to do the explaining."

"I thought Champions were supposed to be brave?"

"Brave, yes. Foolhardy, no."

- - - - - -

_Of course, I could always have told Uthmar the truth; he certainly had no problem working it out for himself. It wouldn't have sounded particularly good, though._ Wufei told himself bitterly. _'Actually, I'd rather sit in Nataku's cockpit and sulk than run the risk that people will ask me questions and I'll reveal more of my feelings than I already have...'_

The check of Nataku's sensor systems had taken less than five minutes, as he'd known it would, and he was left with nothing to do except slouch in his chair and randomly switch views on the screens.

_It's debatable how useful the sensors will be, anyway. This whole area is dappled with that foul green energy, and I still haven't found a way to get Nataku's computers to do a detailed reading on it without them suffering a cybernetic nervous breakdown. Which means I can't run a detailed scan on anything __**else**__ in the same area without risking a software conflict. Whether it's just left over from that blob demon passing through, or has been deliberately spread around, it's acting like an annoyingly effective jamming screen..._

He made a few more half-hearted attempts to find or design a scan mode that would look 'through' the interfering mess, but gave up in disgust when his best idea turned out to be unworkable. Programming his sensors to ignore any energy (whether infrared, ultraviolet, radiation or unidentified) that wasn't actually moving had seemed to work for a little while, until he discovered that small patches of the sickly green whatever-it-was were randomly seeping and trickling from place to place, triggering his sensors to 'look' at them again... and sending his analysis programs back into fits of electronic hiccups. It took him several minutes just to break them out of the recursive loop that was making the main screen flash 'ANALYSING - UNKNOWN - RESET - ANALYSING - UNKNOWN - RESET' faster than a strobe light, and he was swearing under his breath as he shut the programs down at last.

_If anyone on Earth ever comes up with a way to reproduce that effect, I don't care who or what they're going up against; they'll probably win..._

Well. That was a truly spectacular failure. Now what?

Almost without thinking about it, he reached to one side and opened one particular storage compartment, pulling out Duo's bag of CDs. "If I'm going to sit here trying to give myself an ulcer by worrying about a situation I can't get any information on and couldn't affect even if I did," he muttered, "I might as well really **wallow** in it." About to start flicking through the jewel cases, he reconsidered; the last time he'd picked a song at random it had had good results, so why not do that again? One quick slap to the bottom of the padded cube shifted several of the CD cases upwards a centimetre or two, and he pulled out the one that was protruding the most, opening the case and feeding the disk into the right slot on his console without looking at the label. After a quick check to make sure the volume control had been returned to normal levels after the previous day's 'musical exorcism', he hit the 'play' button and reached for a different set of controls, calling up a listing of all the video and image files stored in Nataku's computer memory.

_I was hanging upside-down from the overpass,  
waiting to discover something about the world_

Wufei blinked, looking back at the speakers next to the disk slot as if he expected to see the singer there. _That's a very 'Duo' sort of line,_ he thought, a slow smile spreading across his face. _A very appropriate choice, I think._

Turning back to his screen, he listened to the music with half his attention as he began winnowing through the files, selecting some and queuing them to be displayed, dismissing others from the list on screen. His first cull was swift and decisive. Nothing that was dated before he joined forces with the other pilots; nothing from after he'd been pulled out of his own world; and nothing from battles that he remembered as being difficult, or where any of the Gundams had taken serious damage. He might be expecting to worry about his friends, but he didn't intend to be **completely** masochistic; he wanted images of the other pilots that wouldn't pull him further into the depressed state of mind he was hovering on the edge of.

_I couldn't get with the program and I couldn't listen to them,  
it was like trying to think in reverse_

And I don't want to slide into apathy,  
and I don't wanna die in captivity,  
but these monsters follow me around,  
hunting me down, try to wipe me out...  
wipe me out... wipe me out... wipe me out...

His hands paused for a moment, hovering over the keyboard. "**Too** appropriate, perhaps," he murmured softly, refusing to look at the speakers again. "I never did get around to asking Uthmar if this world has a god of Chance..."

Shaking his head, he forced his attention back to his self-imposed task, reading the note files attached to a series of videos. _Just a coincidence,_ he told himself stubbornly, ignoring the hair lifting on the back of his neck.

_Yeah, I was hiding away underwater,  
waiting for distance and buying some time,  
trying to be two hundred thousand years younger,  
so I could excuse myself from humankind_

'Cause I don't wanna be a container,  
or a bastard with a ten-page disclaimer,  
but these monsters spin me around,  
get me down, just trying to shut me out...  
shut me out... shut me out... shut me out...

It wasn't a particularly long song, but he'd found a number of good video clips and pictures to look at by the time it ended. Most of them were marked as test files, taken while he was performing routine checks on Nataku's cameras as part of her maintenance; if one of the other pilots was nearby, he'd usually film them instead of some random piece of wall, and then save the file instead of deleting it when the test cycle was finished.

_I didn't realise I had so many, though!_ he thought, feeling rather embarrassed as he looked at the list. The **long** list. _I suppose I was using them to fend off loneliness even then... I hardly ever looked at these files, but I knew they were there if I wanted to. And I played some of them, when I was on missions that required a communications blackout..._

Does everyone feel this way when they can't contact people who are important- all right, people who they care about, I admit it- and they know they're in danger?

_**Are**__ they all right?!_

The first song's last chords died away, and there was a moment's silence before the player changed tracks. His first thought about the new song was that it was a completely different style of music; he must have picked one of the CDs Duo had burned himself, a compilation of songs from different artists connected by some theme that might be obvious only to the braided pilot. Then a deep, cynical voice came from the speakers, launching into the first verse.

_Everybody knows that the dice are loaded  
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed  
Everybody knows the war is over  
Everybody knows the good guys lost  
Everybody knows the fight was fixed  
The poor-_

The song cut off as Wufei's hand lashed out at the control panel, connecting with the 'pause' button more by luck than aim. He stayed frozen in that position for several breaths, head down, arm trembling with tension as he pressed the heel of his hand onto the button hard enough to make the console creak. The light on the panel below the button flickered on and off several times as the continued pressure confused the signals; finally the player gave a sort of hiccup and started switching back and forth from 'pause' to 'play', burping out the same half-syllable over and over again until Wufei carefully drew his hand back and it fell silent.

"I don't need to ask Uthmar about a god of Chance," he whispered, slowly massaging away the red mark the edge of the button had left imprinted in his palm. Part of his mind calmly filed the information that his hands were trembling. "I need to ask him about a god of cruel jokes. Or possibly one called Cassandra..."

After a while, Wufei moved again, reaching down to pick up the CD's case and look at it curiously. The handwritten label said 'Depressing', and he snorted with a sort of black amusement as he put it back down.

"Well," he said, straightening up, his voice surprisingly loud in the silent cockpit. "I said I was going to wallow..." The wry smile on his face twisted as he reached out and tapped the 'play' button again.

As the player whirred quietly, spinning the disk back up to speed, he was bringing up the video files of the Gundams' last, massively outnumbered fight.

_-stay poor, the rich get rich  
That's how it goes  
Everybody knows_

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking  
Everybody knows the captain lied  
Everybody got this broken feeling  
Like their father or their dog just died  
Everybody talking to their pockets  
Everybody wants a box of chocolates  
And a long stem rose  
Everybody knows...

- - - - - -

_He's tearing himself apart,_ Krashnark thought worriedly, 'hovering' intangible behind Wufei's chair. _He's not the sort of person who can just accept that there's nothing he can do about a situation, and he's already blaming himself for leaving his friends behind to fight without him. As if he had any choice in the matter! I could wish he had a less highly developed sense of personal responsibility..._

Well. Perhaps not. It comes from his equally overdeveloped sense of personal honour, after all, and that's what made him attractive to me in the first place... and made him refuse me. Hm. I may be just as masochistic as he's acting right now, the Dark god mused, watching as the video on the main screen ended in a burst of static and then returned to the beginning of the file.

_If Sharna's worshippers put up any sort of a fight tomorrow, while he's in this state of mind, he could very easily be killed. There's nothing ordinary mortals can do to him while he's in here, but will he be sensible enough to __**stay**__ in here? And I may have scared my worthless little brother out of intervening personally, but his priests aren't completely powerless by themselves. I don't think Wufei would ever be suicidal, exactly... but he might be feeling guilty enough to do something stupid._

If he just knew, one way or another, what was happening to his friends, I think he could handle it. Even if the news was bad. Whatever he's imagining inside his head is almost certainly worse than the truth.

There was a long pause as Krashnark considered his options. The video on screen ran through its fifteen minutes of intense violence and started again; then the god raised an invisible eyebrow.

_That might work._

It's not going to be particularly _**easy**__, of course, but I think I can do it. There seems to be more than enough of his world's energy still clinging to him to give me a trail..._

Now all I have to do is wait for him to fall asleep, and hope he doesn't do anything stupid before then!

- - - - - -

It had been full dark for some time when Nataku's hatch finally opened again, and Uthmar looked up from where he was discussing tomorrow's tactics with Arwen with a relieved smile. "I was beginning to wonder if he was going to stay in there all night," he said softly, watching Wufei swing downwards on the lift wire, dimly visible in the firelight. "Judging by what Karthan said about the little room he sits in when he's in Nataku, it wouldn't be a comfortable place to sleep!"

"One seat and a metal floor with no room to stretch out?" Arwen nodded. "Unless he's immune to cramped muscles, it'd be a very bad idea."

"I doubt he's-" Uthmar's voice trailed off as he watched Wufei walking slowly towards them. "Damn. Whatever he was doing in there, it hasn't cheered him up."

It was obvious that the small human/demon was not, to put it mildly, happy. It was equally obvious that he was doing his best to hide it, but even though Uthmar had known him only a few days, he was learning to 'read' his moods... better, probably, than Wufei would have liked if he'd known. _When he closes himself off like that, with a completely blank expression and stiff movements, he's hiding strong negative emotion. I won't be able to tell whether he's angry or sad until I can see his eyes, but-_

=*Krashnark is still shadowing him,*= Torframos put in suddenly. _=*He's shielding himself enough to hide his presence from you, I think, but he doesn't seem to be bothering to hide himself from me any more...*=_

"Are you expecting trouble, Lord?" Arwen murmured, barely moving his lips as he glanced sharply in Wufei's direction.

_=*...No,*=_ Torframos replied thoughtfully. _=*Just be aware that anything you discuss with Wufei tonight will be heard.*=_

"Wonderful," Uthmar sighed, then smiled and waved Wufei over to their fire as he paused. "Naiya's gone to sleep," he called quietly, keeping his voice down out of deference to the sleeping armsmen around neighbouring campfires, "but she saved you a helping of rabbit stew. It's amazingly good."

"I wouldn't let her hear you say that if I were you," Wufei said, equally softly. He was smiling as he sat down, but it didn't reach his eyes. "She might be insulted - after all, of **course** anything she cooks is going to be good, so there's no reason for you to be amazed..."

"I don't think she's quite that... er... arrogant about her cooking skills," Arwen protested mildly, hooking the small iron pot holding Wufei's dinner out of the ashes at the edge of the fire with a stick. "Although quite frankly she'd be justified if she was."

"I know, but if you spend more than a couple of months around Duo you soon find yourself jumping on any ambiguous phrasings, just so **he** can't-" Wufei cut himself off, face carefully blank again as he looked away.

"You're well equipped to deal with Gunnar, then," Uthmar said cheerfully, pretending not to notice Wufei's sudden silence. "Arwen and I were just discussing our plans for tomorrow, but we haven't thought of anything that needs changing; do you have any thoughts on the matter?" _I don't see any reason to try to hide those plans from Krashnark,_ he thought hastily, glancing upwards. _It's not as if we're going to be trying anything particularly devious, after all, and if he's been watching Wufei he probably already knows. Besides, even if we __**were**__ contemplating something sneaky, I doubt Krashnark would want to warn __**Sharna**__ about it..._

There was a chuckle of agreement in the back of Uthmar's mind as Wufei accepted a bowl of stew and bread from Arwen and shook his head. "No... I've nothing useful to add." He snorted quietly. "I studied mainly guerrilla and suit warfare, not small-group tactics, and what I **do** know assumes that your men will be armed with machine guns and grenade launchers, not swords, axes and the occasional crossbow."

"But you use a sword," Arwen objected, startled. "Very well, too. If it's not a common weapon, then why-?"

"In my world, it's an **old** weapon, Arwen," Wufei said dryly, one hand lifting automatically to touch the sword hilt rearing above his shoulder. "My clan values - valued - the study of old weapon forms as a form of mental and physical discipline, that's all; trying to use a sword on a 'modern' battlefield will just get you shot as a madman. Carrying it into battle was rather foolish of me, I suppose, though I did find one opponent who was willing to meet me on equal terms..." His voice trailed off for a second as he stared into the flames, caressing the hilt, then he shook his head and seemed to refocus. "I may not be able to contribute to tomorrow's plans, but there is something I wanted to ask about."

"Ah?"

"Can you **please** tell me what the situation is here as regards the gods? Every time I've meant to ask before, something's come up... Right now we seem to have some free time, I can understand your language, and hopefully we will not be interrupted by a screaming green blob or anything similar."

Uthmar nearly choked trying to stifle his roar of laughter, and sputtered into his fist as Arwen pounded on his back, grinning. "Oh. Ah. Yes. _*cough*_ Yes, I can see that you might be getting a bit frustrated, considering the number of times we've started to tell you something about the gods and gotten essentially nowhere... Well then. Where shall we start?"

=*With my father, of course,*= Torframos said in an amused voice. =*He is the beginning of **everything**, after all...*=

- - - - - -

When Wufei finally said goodnight to Uthmar and Arwen and curled up in his sleeping bag, he expected it would take some time before he would be able to assimilate what he'd learned and get to sleep.

_It's not as if the information itself is particularly complicated,_ he thought wryly, staring up at the cloudless sky. _As pantheons go, it's surprisingly simple, actually; only two factions, no ambiguity about who belongs to which, and only one of the gods has a complicated nature. Compared to the Taoist, Buddhist, or Shinto pantheons, this almost seems like the 'bare bones' of a religious system, waiting to be elaborated on!_

And then there's the Vedic gods, where they _**all**__ have multiple incarnations and manifestations... and voudoun... I'm very glad my tutors didn't make me learn more than the absolute minimum about them. No, this is a simple pantheon. Nothing to lose sleep over._

But... they're _**real**__. I've spoken to two of them - __**yelled**__ at one! That makes it all far more... significant._

Gazing up at the stars, Wufei wondered if the goddess Silendros was looking back... and if Norfram, the 'Lord of Chance', really **had** influenced his choice of CDs.

_Or Hirahim Lightfoot,_ he thought, mouth twisting sourly. _He's the practical joker, apparently..._

He fell asleep wondering what Duo would think of a pantheon that included a 'Laughing God', but no deity of Death.

* * * * *

He was dreaming.

It was perfectly obvious that he was dreaming; the real world did not usually consist of a void stretching on seemingly forever, with drifting banks of mist that occasionally flowed in and out of solid form.

_This is undoubtedly one of those dreams that analysts would have you believe is immensely significant and symbolic of something,_ Wufei thought cynically, watching as a floating section of stone paving dissolved. _They'd probably say something like 'the lack of lasting concrete structures and secure footing represents the subject's fear at being separated from his customary support networks and friendships...' Feh. And I know what __**that's**__ symbolic of,_ he added, glaring at the huge, coldly handsome face forming a short distance away. _My stalker._

Hmm. If I thought his name now, would he show up in my dream?

Before Wufei could follow that line of thought any further, there was a surprised yelp from behind him.

"Man, that was a sudden switch! Gotta say it's an improvement over before, though... hmmm. The scenery for this dream is **weird**. When do the penguins turn up?"

"**Duo**?!"


	26. Chapter 25

Duo settled into sleep with Heero's arm snug around his waist, hoping that maybe, this time, he wouldn't dream. Maybe tonight he wouldn't see Wufei attacking the strange energy gun again... being shot again... being lost again.

He found out very quickly that he wasn't going to be so lucky.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"WAAAHAHAHAHAHA! It's time to meet your maker!"

He was in Deathscythe, back to back with Sandrock, hacking his way through Leos and Aries like there was no tomorrow - and there wouldn't be, if he screwed up now. Wing was up above, Heero doing his best to trash Zechs and Tallgeese, and Duo spared half a second to glance at the tiny window he'd allowed himself to dedicate to the camera that was tracking that battle. Really, he knew he shouldn't do it, he shouldn't let himself get distracted that way, but surely just a glance once in a while wouldn't hurt-

Time slowed down. The window showing Wing seemed to expand, taking up more and more of his screen. He couldn't see the rest of the fight properly around it, but he couldn't seem to find the key that would close it...

[ [ Trowa, Wufei, there's some sort of energy weapon on that southern hill, ] ] Quatre transmitted. [ [ It looks like they're aiming at Wing- ] ]

_Shoot it,_ he tried to say, but now he couldn't find the control for the radio and his voice wasn't making any noise. He couldn't see the weapon either, the window showing Wing was covering everything, but he **knew** what it was. _Don't go near it._

[ [ On it, ] ] Trowa replied.

_Yeah, Tro, you can get it from a distance- use your rockets-_

[ [ No, I've got it, ] ] said Wufei. [ [ You've got a clearer path to help 2 and 4. ] ]

_No! NO! We're fine, there's nobody really threatening us, we can take care of it!_

His hand found the radio control at last, but what came out of his mouth wasn't what he meant to say. "Ah, yeah, Tro-man, not that we need a hand really - but I'm sure you'd hate it if we trashed them all by ourselves!"

[ [ Right. Coming. ] ]

_Forget about us, SHOOT THE FUCKING ZAPGUN!_ Duo howled mentally, but nothing came out. He could see now, see Nataku arrowing towards the new weapon on thrusters, thermal staff swinging around with Wufei's usual speed and economy of motion, but the damn Buck Rogers ripoff still had all the time in the world to swivel around and take aim and Duo knew exactly what was going to happen to his best friend but he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it-

-and all of a sudden he had his voice back and yelped in surprise as he found himself somewhere else.

_...Whoa. Mental whiplash. What's going on?_

He could feel his heart still hammering in his chest and took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to relax as he stared at his strange new surroundings. _And that's not all that's strange - since when do I notice my heartbeat and breathing in dreams? Okay, take stock... no Gundam. No fight. Hell, no __**ground**__, either, just these floating bits of stone and buildings and fog... Toto, this ain't Kansas._

"Man, that was a sudden switch!" he muttered, more to hear himself speak than because he thought talking out loud would do any good. "Gotta say it's an improvement over before, though... hmmm. The scenery for this dream is **weird**. When do the penguins turn up?"

A shocked voice came from behind him. "**Duo**?!"

- - - - - -

"**Wufei**?!"

Wufei barely had time to wonder how someone could spin around in midair with no leverage before Duo had flung himself upon him, babbling hysterically.

"Oh my GOD, Wu-man, are you okay? Where the fuck have you **been**?! I've missed you like hell! Are you really here or is this just a dream?! Oh hell, who cares-" Duo's voice was suddenly muffled as he pressed his face into Wufei's shoulder, arms putting serious pressure on the Chinese pilot's ribs, and he sobbed once or twice before getting control of himself.

"You're not dead?" he asked in a tiny voice, turning his face a little to one side to get his mouth clear. "You're really not dead?"

"That's my line," Wufei said shakily, carefully wrapping his arms around Duo's shoulders to return the hug. He **felt** real, more solid than any dream should be; thin shoulders under the white slogan t-shirt, wisps of hair escaping from his braid to tickle Wufei's wrist, the edge of his brace bumping back against what was probably going to be a serious bruise on Wufei's knee-

_Brace?_

"Since when do you wear a leg brace?" he asked, puzzled.

Duo sniffed and pulled back far enough to see Wufei's face, hands releasing just enough of their death grip to let him pat carefully at his friend, testing to make sure that yes, he was there along with all the normal appendages present and accounted for. "Since I munged up my knee and Sally made me hold still for an operation on it," he said, annoyance showing even through his distraction. "It's a pain - sometimes literally - but it's not gonna drop off or anything. Man, 'Fei, you're a sight for sore eyes. Even if this **is** just a dream, it's a hell of a lot better than instant replay of you getting blown out of our dimension into God knows where!"

"I'm not so sure this is a dream," Wufei said uncertainly, holding the other pilot's shoulders and looking him searchingly up and down. "At least, not an ordinary one. Even with the decidedly odd surroundings, this feels far too... concrete. And why would I dream you with a brace on your leg? For that matter, why would I dream of you wearing a t-shirt I've never seen?" he asked, mouth quirking into a smile as he read the slogan 'Patient gown? We don't NEED no #~%ing patient gown!' that was proudly blazoned across the front of Duo's oversized top. "Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful example of a 'Duo shirt', but I'm sure it's one I've never seen you wear!"

"Yeah, it's new," Duo shrugged, glancing down at it. "I got it the day before I went in for the op- oh."

"Exactly," Wufei said grimly, twisting to look suspiciously back at the floating stone image of Krashnark's face. "If this is my dream, why would I invent a leg brace and a new t-shirt for you? If this is **your** dream, why would I - a figment of your imagination - be surprised by them? Either one of us is dreaming far more imaginatively than normal, or-"

The eyes of the stone mask opened, and Krashnark's mental 'voice' whispered into their heads. _=*This isn't a dream. Or to put it another way, it __**is**__ a dream... a true dream, that you are both sharing. Make the most of it; this is taking rather a lot of power to maintain, and I don't think I'll be able to do it again.*=_

"Oh-kayyyy," Duo murmured, fingers tightening on Wufei's biceps. "I take it that's the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz? Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain..."

Wufei's scowl deepened, and he turned to face Krashnark fully, pushing Duo behind him without thinking. "If this is supposed to be some sort of bribe, I-"

_=*It is __**not**__ a bribe,*=_ Krashnark insisted, sounding slightly impatient. _=*I promised not to nag you, and a bribe could be considered a form of nagging; it's certainly a form of pressure. Besides, I'm not foolish enough to think that you'd allow a bribe to sway your opinion.*=_ Humour leaked into his 'voice'. _=*In any direction except away from what I was trying to get you to do, that is! I merely thought that you might be better prepared for tomorrow's fight if you weren't occupied by worrying about your friends. As long as there's the slightest chance that you might someday agree to become my Champion, it's in my best interests for you to survive, after all...*=_

=*In any case, I can hold this for only a limited time. May I suggest that you take advantage of the opportunity to talk to your friend now, and yell at me _**later**__?*=_ The huge stone face smiled past Wufei at Duo, bobbed slightly - a nod? - and evaporated into mist.

Wufei let out his breath in an annoyed snort and glared at the dissipating cloud, seriously considering calling Krashnark back and giving him a piece of his mind right then and there, but was distracted by Duo's voice.

"Um, 'Fei?" he asked, voice carefully nonchalant. "You've heard of Easter Island, right? How did we end up there, and when did the stone faces start talking to people? Come to think of it, much as I hate to say this, a talking stone face is probably a good sign that this **is** just a dream..."

"Actually," Wufei sighed, turning back to him, "while I would normally agree with you, in this case it means just the opposite. That was Krashnark."

"Uh-huh," Duo said sceptically, quirking an eyebrow at him. "And who's he when he's not imitating an evaporating Mount Rushmore?"

"My penance for ever sneering at Heero's fear of Relena," Wufei muttered, then cleared his throat. "This isn't going to convince you that this is real, I'm sure, but... he's a god."

Duo just stared at him for a moment... then stared some more. "Riiiiiight," he drawled eventually. "Now I **know** the dancing penguins are going to turn up. Any minute now..."

Wufei laughed helplessly, pulling Duo back into a hug. "Gods, I've missed you," he whispered, burying his face in the curve of Duo's neck and taking a deep breath, drawing in the familiar scent of clean skin and lemongrass shampoo. There was a faint medicinal tinge as well, presumably from the hospital, and although he couldn't imagine how Krashnark had managed to arrange things so that they could **smell** each other, it gave him an idea.

"Duo," he said abruptly, tugging the other boy closer, "smell me."

"What?!"

"I'm serious, just smell me."

Duo leaned forward and sniffed tentatively at Wufei's hair, frowning. "You smell a bit like woodsmoke," he muttered. "And grass."

"Have you ever been able to smell something in a dream before?" Duo's eyes widened, and Wufei pressed on. "You can see and hear things in dreams, and sometimes feel things a bit, but I at least have never **smelled** a figment of my imagination. So..."

"...So maybe this is real," Duo whispered hopefully.

"Seems like it," Wufei agreed, drawing in a shaky breath. "Which means you're **alive**. Are you all- is everyone okay? Losing me didn't cause any," he nearly said 'deaths', "any problems? The battle wasn't going well..."

"Problems?" Duo laughed. "Wu-man, losing you the way we did **saved** us! Not that I wouldn't rather have kept you with us and had to fight a bit harder, but... You remember that energy gun thingy?"

"I should hope I do, since the cursed thing shot me," Wufei said sourly.

"It did more than shoot you, it blew up. Impressively. When the dust cleared, there wasn't a hill there any more, most of the Ozzie suits were trashed, and Tallgeese had taken a header into the dirt. The Gundams took it a lot better; we got some bumps and bruises, and Zechs survived OK according to what I heard, but the death toll on the OZ side was pretty horrific. They've **surrendered**, 'Fei. We won."

"Surrendered...?" Wufei nearly choked as that one word destroyed all the possible scenarios he'd thought of. He'd imagined his friends dead, defeated, scattered and trapped... but triumphant? "So... what's happening now? Has OZ disbanded? Is-"

"Ohhh no you don't, Wu," Duo said firmly, taking a firm grip on Wufei's hands and settling into a seated position in midair, braced leg sticking out in front of him. "First, you tell me what the hell happened to you after that thing burped or hiccupped or whatever it is the Doctors think it did, and you got pulled out of our universe! If this dream is real, that means that **god** was real, too, and I want to know what the fuck is up with that!"

"It's not just gods! It's like a fantasy novel, elves and dwarves and magic and demons... you know, I keep thinking 'Duo would love it here'. At the very least, you'd have a better idea than me of how to get Krashnark off your back!"

"You have a **god** on your back?" Duo asked incredulously.

"Two gods, technically, though I haven't actually met the other one," Wufei sighed, running one hand back over his hair and tugging distractedly at his ponytail. "At least Sharna only wants to kill me..."

- - - - - -

"So despite being very definitely not a pacifist in any way whatsoever, this Krashnark god is a lot like Relena at her worst?" Duo asked eventually, grinning.

"I certainly think so, though he was rather offended by the comparison," Wufei snorted. "It got him to shut up for a while, at least. How is the pursuit going, by the way? I'm feeling rather guilty about all the times I considered Yui to be a coward for avoiding her."

"Actually, she's backed off."

"She's what?"

"Backed off. Given up on Heero. She's actually being nice to **me**, now, and it seems to be for real... not a ploy to get brownie points or anything."

"Duo," Wufei said slowly, "quite frankly, I find that less plausible than anything that's happened to me since I got dragged into this world."

"What, less plausible than being headhunted metaphorically by one god, and headhunted literally by his twin brother? 'Lena isn't **that** bad!"

"I seem to remember you having a different opinion, that time she turned up unexpectedly and forced you to abandon your favourite pair of boots when we left the safehouse," Wufei teased. "'Living embodiment of Murphy's fucking Law' was the politest thing you called her."

"All right, so maybe she comes across as an annoying force of nature sometimes, but still, she's not supernatural!"

"True. Actually, that reminds me of something I was thinking about today. What's your opinion of a pantheon that has a god of thieves and seductions, and a goddess of stars who doesn't actually seem to **do** much, but no god of Death?"

There was a long pause as Duo stared at him, apparently stunned. "...Say what? No god of **Death**? Wu, that is **seriously** screwed up, you know. Every damn pantheon has a god of Death, it's a union requirement or something!"

"I thought you'd think it was odd."

"Odd? It's just about impossible! If you take the view that deities are imaginary constructs invented by humans to fill the psychological need for explanation and 'control' of natural forces and events," Duo said earnestly, "Death is right up there with Life as something that needs explaining, right? And if the gods are real, which they sure as hell seem to be where you are, then Death is an incredibly important process that's just begging to have someone in charge of it! Are you **sure** there isn't a god of Death? Maybe as a secondary function of whatever god is the head honcho?"

"Um... no, Orr seems to be purely a god of creation," Wufei said slowly, thinking back to what Uthmar and Arwen had told him.

"Life, right," Duo nodded. "Who's in charge of birth? A lot of the time the same god is also in charge of Death, sort of taking care of both ends of the life cycle."

"You seem to know a lot about this!"

"Comparative Religions class at Lamar High," the braided teen said shortly. "It's the only time I ever liked doing homework, and I kept the textbooks when we booked it out of there. Well?"

"Hm. Kontifrio and Lillinara, I think... and Lillinara does **comfort** the dying, sometimes, but I got the impression that that was more to do with assuring murdered women that they would be avenged than as a general thing." Wufei shrugged helplessly. "There's a dark goddess who holds power over **undead** creatures, but that's all."

"Screwed," Duo said firmly, shaking his head. "Definitely screwed. There should be a light deity of death to balance that dark goddess, if nothing else! Either you didn't get full information or there's something badly out of whack over there, 'Fei. Maybe the next time Krashy tries to wheedle you into being his general or whatever, you can distract him by asking about this?"

"Maybe," Wufei said doubtfully. "I think he- **Krashy**?!"

"Hey, sorry, but the guy's name sounds like a car accident in a 'Pinky and the Brain' cartoon," Duo grinned, not looking at all repentant. "It's just begging to be made fun of!"

"He's got a temper, you know. If he shows up again before we wake up, **please** don't call him that to his face... Okay, it's your turn now. How in the world did Kushrenada manage to get Lady Une to go along with a surrender?"

"Ah. Well. Actually..."

- - - - - -

When Duo had finished explaining what had happened to OZ, it was Wufei's turn to look at him disbelievingly.

"Say something, Wu," Duo said uncomfortably, leaning forward to get a closer look at his eyes. "I know you don't like talking unless you have something worthwhile to say, but really, you don't have to take it to Trowa's lengths..."

"Kushrenada **suicided**?" the other teen whispered, ignoring that last comment. "I can't believe... It's not the sort of thing he'd **do**!"

"Yeah, well, I was kind of out of it at the time," Duo admitted, "so when I got my act together enough to pay attention we were dealing with the results, not the fact, but... I have to admit, he always struck me as the sort of person who'd go and pick a fight he couldn't win if he ever wanted to die, instead of pushing a self-destruct or swallowing some pills. Go out with glory, or whatever... Still, he did it. Left a note wishing us luck building the future and everything. And since Une apparently only ever wanted to win for **his** sake, without him there to fight for she just... folded."

"I see," Wufei said numbly, and then shook himself. "'Out of it'?" he asked sharply, putting the matter of Kushrenada's suicide aside for later thought. "I thought you said you weren't hurt?"

"Bumps and bruises, like I said," Duo said evasively, and then wilted as Wufei raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Plus a minor concussion. That wasn't the problem, though; I, um... Heero was being a prick at the time so I was kind of depressed, okay? But he stopped!" he added quickly, waving his hands in a sort of 'calm down' gesture as Wufei bristled.

"If he was being enough of a 'prick' to get **you** depressed, it must have been bad," Wufei growled, looking ready to march out of the dream and confront Wing's pilot face-to-face.

Duo grimaced. "I think Quatre threatened him with grievous bodily harm a time or two, and you know the sort of provocation Q-man needs before he'll consider anything of the sort! For a while there he was being damn snarky. Still, he's sorry now, and he's trying really hard to make up for it... which is just as annoying sometimes, when he overdoes it, but... um... we actually seem to be getting things sorted out. Boyfriend-type things, I mean," he muttered, fiddling with the end of his braid. "He says he loves me..."

Wufei reached over and plucked the tuft out of Duo's hands, rescuing it from imminent destruction. "I can always tell when you're really nervous, you know," he said gently, capturing the other teen's hands in his when they reached for the braid again. "You start actually picking at your hair instead of just waving it around... So," he went on, only half joking, "how do **you** feel about this? I know it's what you've wanted, but do you think he's genuine or am I going to have to find a way to get back home and dispense some justice?"

Duo looked down at their clasped hands with a watery giggle. "I can just see you tying him to a chair and lecturing him for a few hours straight-"

"Lecture, hell, if he hurt you I'd kick his sorry ass!" Wufei insisted, ducking down to look at Duo's face. "First. **Then** I'd lecture him, after I'd broken his legs so he couldn't get away. And you haven't answered my question."

"I think he's for real," Duo said, voice barely above a whisper.

"So what's the problem?" Concerned, Wufei abandoned his efforts to look past Duo's bangs and reached out, gently nudging his chin up with one hand. "You're acting like this is a bad development. Is it?"

"No! No, it's good, it's just..." Duo's face crumpled and he drew in a deep, shaky breath, tears welling up in his eyes. "Hell, this was easier to discuss with **Relena**, damn it... I feel like I'm betraying you, somehow. Like I got him by losing you, and if I let myself be happy with him I'll lose any chance to ever get you **back**!"

"So I'm the sacrifice on the altar of your relationship, is that it?" Wufei wiped carefully at the first tear trickling down Duo's cheek. "Don't you **dare** blame yourself for my situation, Duo! You had nothing to do with causing it, and I don't see how anything you do or don't do could possibly affect it now. All you'd accomplish by pushing Heero away would be to make yourself and him miserable, and that's the last thing you should do!" He sighed, pulling the other boy into another hug. "As for getting me back... well, unless the Doctors come up with something damn impressive, I don't think it's going to happen. We might be able to talk again, like this, but I seem to have been 'summoned' into this world like one of their demons - technically, I **am** a demon - and there was nothing in what Uthmar and Arwen told me about any demons being 'un-summoned' back to where they came from. Once they're here, they're here to stay." _Until some Champion kills them,_ he carefully didn't add.

"The Doctors said they couldn't do anything," Duo sniffed miserably into his shoulder. "Well, they said they could probably blow us out of our universe by recreating what happened to you, but they couldn't arrange for us to end up in the same place."

"Not something you should try, then," Wufei said dryly, rubbing his back. "Believe me, Duo, finding happiness with Heero would **not** be a betrayal of me. I want you to be happy, and if he can make you happy, more power to you both! I'm your friend, after all, not your boyfriend."

There was a faint, hiccupping laugh from the general region of Wufei's collarbone. "Yeah, well, if I hadn't been so stuck on Heero I might have tried to change that."

"If you hadn't been so obviously stuck on Heero, **I** might have tried to change that," Wufei admitted wryly. "But you were, so it never came up... and I can't help feeling a little glad. I miss you badly enough as a friend; I can't imagine how I'd feel if I was missing you as a lover."

"Sucky," Duo sighed, sniffing. "It's pretty damn sucky missing you anyway, but I guess there are degrees of suckiness."

"Your riveting insights into the human condition never fail to amaze me, Duo," Wufei drawled in his best supercilious tone of voice. He blocked the finger jabbing for the sensitive spot under his ribs because he was expecting it, but he missed the yank at his ponytail and yelped as Duo blew a wet raspberry on the side of his neck. "Ugh! That's disgusting, you know. Feeling better?" he muttered, wiping the spit away.

"I know it's disgusting, that's why I **did** it. You deserved it," Duo muttered back, sitting up again in midair. "...Yeah, I'm feeling better. Thanks."

"You've cheered me up countless times in the past; it's only fair for me to return the favour once in a while." _Especially since I may never have the chance to do so again!_

"And you've cheered me up more times than anyone else in my life, so you're doing just fine," Duo retorted, scrubbing the back of one hand over his face. "Even when it was just by being there, letting me know you were there to talk to when I needed to, or letting me flop in your room and listen to you read out loud when I didn't want to talk to **anyone**... anyway. Did you say that technically you're a **demon**?! Do they have some really weird prejudices about the 'Yellow Peril' over where you are now, or something?"

"They don't seem to have Asians at all, Duo, so no. Anything and anyone from outside their world is either a 'demon' or a 'devil' to these people," Wufei began, accepting the change of subject. "You'd be a demon too, if you'd been caught in that explosion along with me."

"'Maxwell the Demon' instead of 'Maxwell's Demon'," Duo grinned, red eyes and the occasional slight hitch in his breathing the only sign that he'd been crying a moment ago. "I like it! So they're not disappointed that you don't have horns and flame breath? Though I guess Nataku supplies the flame breath, in a way. Don't they think it's odd that you don't have any supernatural powers, or does being able to pilot a Gundam count?"

"The people who've made friends with me are actually quite **glad** I don't have horns and flame breath," Wufei retorted, "since it'll make it much easier for everyone else to accept me. My appearance is apparently already strange enough to be frightening to some people! From what they've-"

"They've got elves and dwarves and fuzzy-eared giants and **you're** strange?!"

"I told you, they don't have Asians. Nobody on this world, whether they're elves or hradani or human or whatever, has exactly my skin tone, straight black hair is incredibly rare, and apparently black **eyes** are impossible. I'll admit that I haven't seen very many of the local inhabitants yet, but they look like a mostly western European mix, with a heavy dose of Scandinavian genes. The darkest hair I've seen here is around the same shade as Yui's." Wufei sighed and grinned a little sheepishly, smoothing his hair back. "At least the response to my appearance so far has been that I'm 'exotic', not 'ugly'. Demons are normally repulsive, from what I've been told, and since the only one I've seen was a sort of luminous green amoeba that screamed like fingernails on a blackboard, I'm willing to believe it; if my looks aren't considered disgusting, people's first reaction to me is likely to be 'strange, where's HE from?!' rather than 'demon! kill it!'"

Duo snickered. "So your first demon was basically a giant snotmonster? Eww!"

"Duo, if you ever produce mucus of that colour, you will not only be on the point of death, you will have to be buried in a lead-lined coffin, because you will be **radioactive**," the Chinese pilot told him acidly. "And as for lacking supernatural powers, I-"

He was cut off as a sudden 'ripple' passed through the void around them, dissolving all the floating stone sculptures and bits of architecture into mist as it passed. Another ripple, and the expanding billows of fog thickened noticeably, sending vaporous fingers between the two teens and blurring their outlines.

"I think our vid call just ran out of coins, or something," Duo said, glancing around nervously. "Either that, or the monitor needs to be degaussed; we're getting a lot of static all of a sudden..."

"Krashnark did say he wouldn't be able to hold it for long," Wufei said numbly, watching as the colour began to leach out of his own fingers. He swallowed a lump in his throat at the prospect of losing touch with Duo again - perhaps for good - and reached out to grasp the braided teen's hand. "Look after yourself, Duo. And don't throw away any chance at happiness you may get! You've got a chance to build a life where you don't have to be a soldier any more, don't have to fight for people who don't appreciate you any more, a life where you can settle down and do what you **want** to do. Don't waste it. Especially not because you feel guilty about me, all right?!"

"I won't," Duo swore, clinging to his friend's hand as the mist thickened and they lost sight of each other. "And you look after yourself, too! Don't you dare make me worry about you! I know you can't promise me that you'll always be okay, nobody can promise that, but you can damn well promise me that any fucking snotmonster that takes you down is going to have indigestion by the time you're through, all right?"

"I promise," Wufei said, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'll kick it in the tonsils on the way down!"

Wufei's hand seemed to melt and slide out of his, and Duo groped through the darkening fog, trying to find him again. "I miss you," he called desperately, trying for one last word. "We all miss you..."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heero woke abruptly as he felt Duo moving restlessly beside him. Snuggling closer to the braided teen's back, he gently rubbed his hand up and down the other boy's arm, enough to soothe, but not awaken.

_I don't __**think**__ this is a nightmare,_ he thought, raising himself up on one elbow until he could see Duo's face. In the dim light from the hospital's courtyard lamps shining through the window, he could make out his boyfriend's features. _Rapid eye movement, restlessness, muscle twitches, quickened breathing - all signs of a nightmare, or at least intensive dreaming... but... he's smiling?_

Heero continued visually monitoring Duo as he dreamed, noting various frowns, fists clenching briefly, a few sighs, a giggle... Once his breathing stuttered, almost sobbing, but it smoothed out again after just a few seconds.

_Definitely not a nightmare, thank heaven-_

Duo gasped, twisting, and reached out with both hands as if he was grabbing at someone in his dream. "I miss you," he mumbled, voice blurred by sleep but still desperate. "We all miss you..." Then his eyes snapped open and he lunged upright.

"Duo! Duo, it's all right, I'm here!" Heero grabbed his shoulders, trying to give him an anchor point, and the braided teen wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"Heero! he gasped, happiness mixed with pain in his voice. "He's alive, Heero! He's okay! Wufei's **alive**!"

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I almost hate to wake th' lad up," Cord chuckled, deep voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever he's dreaming, I'd say it's good..."

Wufei was lying limp in his sleeping bag, on his back, face turned to one side and one arm stretched upwards, hand loose and open above his head. His normal closed, slightly wary expression was nowhere to be seen; instead, there was a faint, happy smile on his lips.

"For once, I have no idea," Karthan yawned, stretching. "I didn't share his dreams last night, and the link is firmly closed- well now, look at that. He looks a lot older when he's scowling, doesn't he?"

"Aye, he does." Cord frowned in thought for a moment. "How old **is** he, anyway? I've been thinking of him as about the same age as Arwen, here," he jerked his thumb at the human Champion, "but it occurs to me I've nowt to base that on at all, at all, save for the thought that he acts like a belted knight..."

It was Karthan's turn to frown. "I can't just lift the answer out of his memories right now, but... I think I already know, sort of, it's just that it's never come to the front of my mind... uh... seventeen?" he finished, tentatively.

"**Seventeen**?!" Cord snorted incredulously. "Ah, now, I know humans grow fast, but tha's ridiculous! Manten's nowhere near his age in th' head, an' he's twenty!"

"I can believe it," Arwen said softly, walking over to peer past Cord's shoulder as the giant hradani crouched down next to Wufei. "There are times and places - especially in human lands - where children have to grow up fast, and it sounds like his home is one of them." There was a quiet, thoughtful pause, and then he thumped the hradani's shoulder companionably. "So, were you planning to wake up His Demonic Highness any time soon, or were you just going to look at his sweetly dreaming face and sigh?"

"I'd watch it if I were you, laddie," Cord said dangerously, slanting his ears back and glaring. "One Gunnar is more than enough in this group, I'm thinking."

"Yes, but I can run faster than him," Arwen grinned.

"Not faster than a Horse Stealer hradani, you can't," Cord muttered, reaching for Wufei's shoulder. "There's a reason why we eat 'em instead of riding 'em, you know, an' we have to **catch** 'em first... Come on, lad, time to get up and moving! We've a few scorpions to stamp on today, an' they won't wait around for you to finish your beauty sleep!"

Wufei drew in a sharp breath and jerked before Cord's hand touched him, though, eyes snapping open. They were vague and unfocussed for barely a heartbeat before he registered that **someone** was leaning over him, silhouetted against the pre-dawn glow and firelight, reaching out-

One quick flurry of movement later, Cord was blinking up from his new position, flat on his back on the ground with Wufei rearing over him, one hand coming down to strike at his unprotected throat- then the hand redirected slightly, stabbing into the ground next to his head, and the human/demon was yawning as he sat back.

"Good morning," he said sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

"Good morning," Karthan replied politely, suppressing a snicker as Cord coughed and tried to pull some air back into his lungs. Arwen wasn't quite so controlled, sniggering helplessly behind one hand.

"An' a good morning t'you, Wufei lad," Cord wheezed, pushing himself up into a sitting position with a rather grumpy expression on his face. "You've a nasty way of treating people who disturb good dreams!"

"Hm? -Oh," Wufei said vaguely, only now seeming to realise what he'd done. "Ah. My apologies. It's safer to wake me up from a distance, actually... standing back and calling my name is probably the best idea."

"Aye, well, that's as may be, but the only other time I've tried waking you up, nothing like this happened!"

"The only other time you've tried waking him up, he didn't actually wake up," Karthan pointed out dryly. "Breakfast is nearly ready, Wufei. Did you sleep well?"

"Um. Yes. I think so," Wufei replied distractedly. "Do we need more water, or did somebody already fetch some?"

"The cook got a double load of water and wood last night, so nobody had to leave the camp to fetch any before dawn, but I think they need more for washing up," Arwen told him, stifling his last chuckles. "Uthmar's given orders that nobody is to go outside our sentry line alone, though, so you'll have to take a group... hmm. I know **just** who to assign to you, too!"

- - - - - -

"If we attack **now**, my lord, we will have the advantage of surprise," the assassin whispered impatiently. Showing impatience towards a high priest of the Scorpion was always dangerous, of course, but letting the Order of Torframos meet their attack on equal terms, awake and ready to march, would be even more likely to kill him. Less painfully, perhaps, but-

"Patience," the priest whispered back, studying the awakening camp through narrowed eyes. "Patience and stealth, those are the virtues of the Scorpion..."

"And they have served us well, my lord, bringing us close enough to attack our enemies before they are prepared," the assassin pressed on. "We must not lose the opportunity our lord Sharna has given us!"

"Be silent," the priest snapped, tensing. They were too far away from the camp and it was still too dim for him to make out individual forms easily, but he could **feel** the thing he held coiled in his hands awaken, yearning towards its target. "The one we seek is moving... there!" A small group was moving towards the woods to their left, and steel hooks bit into his hands as his grip tightened eagerly.

"**This** is the true opportunity lord Sharna has sent us!" he hissed, twisting around to bare his teeth at the assassin in an expression that had nothing to do with a smile. "The one He seeks is leaving the main group and is coming to us, with only a small escort. **This** is what patience brings!"

"Your pardon, my lord!" the assassin muttered, bowing his head. "I spoke too soon. Your orders?"

"You, and all of your dog brothers, are to come with me," the priest whispered, crawling back from the edge of the forest. "Send the regular infantry to strike the camp; I want them cut off, unable to aid our target. **We** will take the demon. And remember!" he said sharply, glaring at the assassin again. "Our lord Sharna will want them **alive**!"

- - - - - -

"Arwen's going to assign **him** as one of my guards?" Wufei muttered darkly. "Did I do something nasty to him lately and forget about it?"

Karthan shrugged his weapons harness straight and picked up his axe. "It's not what you've done, Wufei; it's what Vaijon **is**. Think of it as a compliment! Arwen's hoping you'll be a good example for the brat."

"Oh?" Wufei turned away from watching Arwen give instructions to the small group of armsmen clustered around Sir Vaijon, and looked sharply at the dwarf next to him. "An example how? He certainly doesn't seem to need a martial mentor..."

"Common sense and proper knightly behaviour," Karthan grinned, hooking the axe into place on his back. "The little things, like not discounting people just because their birth rank is low, and not regarding 'menial' tasks as 'beneath' him; that sort of thing."

"Oh, really?" Wufei lifted an eyebrow, and then began to smile... rather nastily. "In that case, I need two more buckets."

He'd hoped to spend a few minutes alone while getting the water - a few minutes he could have used to good effect, talking to Krashnark. He still wasn't sure whether he was going to thank the dark god, yell at him, or both, but he would have gotten **something** out of his system! It was bad enough having any sort of audience for this trip, but **Vaijon**?

_I'll just have to wait until I'm in Nataku's cockpit,_ he told himself, taking the buckets a grinning dwarf was holding out to him with a polite nod. _In the meantime, if I'm stuck with Vaijon and supposed to be an 'influence' on him, I may as well __**work**__ at being an influence..._

The look on Vaijon's face when Wufei dumped a pair of buckets at his feet was almost worth it.

"...Sir Wufei?" he asked tentatively, looking at the buckets rather as if he suspected they were poisonous. The honorific had to struggle to make it out past his teeth, but it was there, and Wufei was very careful **not** to smirk as he nodded and held up his own pair of buckets.

"We need to get water," he said calmly.

"I am aware of that," the golden-haired knight-probationer said carefully, "but I was under the impression that we were to guard you."

_And do you think that you're guarding me from attack, or guarding the group from possible betrayal by me?_ Wufei thought sourly. "Dahan says he needs four buckets' worth," he shrugged. "Either you get water too, or we make two trips. I know what seems more sensible to **me**."

"I see," Vaijon nodded, looking around. Picking one of the men-at-arms, a human, he stepped back and waved towards the buckets on the ground. "Jens, if you would-"

"**Sir Vaijon**." Wufei's voice was flat. "I didn't give Jens the buckets. I gave **you** the buckets. Jens is armed with a crossbow and needs to be able to carry it in his hands, or it won't be ready if and when we need him to shoot."

"And what am **I** supposed to do if we are attacked?!" Vaijon shot back indignantly, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-four. "Run like a, a peasant **farmwife**?!"

"You'll do exactly what **I** intend to do," Wufei snapped. "Throw the buckets at your first opponent and draw your sword while he's distracted. This is a **job**, Vaijon, it needs to be done and there is no loss of honour in doing it - and no honour in shirking it!"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and headed towards the woods, aiming for where Nataku's map told him there was a small stream. Karthan and the other lay brothers followed, hiding grins with various degrees of success, and Vaijon was left behind, mouth hanging open.

"Well, Sir Vaijon?" Arwen said gently. "What are you waiting for?"

The knight-probationer flushed angrily, but (visibly) resisted the temptation to answer back; instead, he scooped up the buckets and stalked after the small group, silken cloak swirling behind him.

"And it's such a fine figure of a farmwife he makes, too," Cord's deep voice mused from behind Arwen, and the champion nearly choked trying to stifle his laugh so Vaijon wouldn't hear it.

- - - - - -

"I don't mind telling you, Sir Wufei, I get a creepy feeling walking through these woods," Jens muttered under his breath, glancing around as they reached the stream. "Am I jumping at shadows, or is there summat here?"

"You're not jumping at shadows," Wufei said grimly, looking around. _Not that there are too many dark shadows for us to jump at,_ he mused.

The area of woods they were moving through - called the Shipwood, Uthmar had told him - was mostly made up of tall, straight trees that let a fair amount of light through their branches, and seemingly their roots secreted something that kept the underbrush to a minimum, so the tangled ground cover and bushes that Wufei would have expected in a similar forest on Earth wasn't a problem. Even though the sun was only just peeking over the horizon, he could see clearly, and he thought that the humans and dwarves with him could probably see well enough to shoot if necessary...

...and if he concentrated on looking at the scenery in a slightly different way, he could see smears and puddles of sickly green light everywhere.

"Sharna's energy is all over this area," he continued, pitching his voice to carry to every member of the group without being too loud. "I can see it, and you can probably feel it, a little... but the water seems clean. Stay alert."

"Oh, there's no way I'm relaxing after hearin' **that**, sir," Jens growled, snugging the butt of his crossbow up against his shoulder. "Let's get that water and get back out of here, huh?"

"Sounds good to me," Karthan said, hefting his axe. "Perimeter, lads, everyone faced out and watching!"

Wufei and Vaijon filled the buckets quickly, sliding down the stream bank to a convenient shelf of rock that let them reach the free-flowing water in the centre, away from the weeds and mud at the edge. Getting back up was a little trickier, but Vaijon managed by lifting his buckets up to the edge to free his hands for the climb, swearing under his breath at the mud staining his gloves.

Taking one last look around as he waited for Vaijon to get out of the way, Wufei stiffened as he saw/felt a dense clot of green energy moving closer. He'd seen patches of energy trickling from place to place the night before, seemingly at random, but something was different... _It's not flowing smoothly,_ he realised. _It's bobbing, moving from side to side and up and down, like a light that someone's carrying-_ "Something's coming," he snapped, dropping his buckets and jumping lightly to the top of the bank. "Get ready!"

Vaijon was scrambling to get up, and Wufei reached down and yanked him to his feet without thinking, eyes fixed in the direction the light/energy was approaching from. _Nataku,_ he thought, focussing hard. _Disengage energy scan mode. Scan __**these**__ coordinates, motion detection only-_

A map sprang to life in his mind, crawling with little moving dots, and he swore. "We're surrounded!" he snarled. "Head back **now** and watch our rear, we may be able to break out before they can bring up their full forces!"

"How many?!" Karthan asked urgently, spinning to run back the way they'd come. "What about the camp?"

"About thirty," Wufei said grimly. "We can't expect reinforcements, the camp's about to be hit too."

"And how do **you** know?!" Vaijon snarled.

Wufei turned his head to look at him, and the blond human swallowed, steps faltering as he saw the small demon's eyes glowing green. "Nataku just told me," he said, almost conversationally. "Just like she's telling me that you should look out to your left."

"Wha-?" Vaijon swivelled automatically to look left, and brought his sword up just in time to block a blow from a dark-clad man who burst up out of the underbrush. Sudden clangs and shouts told him they were being attacked from the other side of the trail as well, and then he was facing **three** swordsmen at once and had no attention to spare for anything else.

"Thirty against seven?!" Karthan panted, blocking a cut and chopping low, taking his opponent's legs out from under him. "I hate to tell you this, Wufei, but I don't think we're going to break out of this one!"

"Oh ye of little faith," Wufei grunted, swatting an axe away with the flat of his sword and punching its wielder, sending him flying. "As Duo would say, 'think of it as a target-rich environment'!" Shadowy red and blue armour was flickering into view around him, and he had no doubts about his ability to handle the mundane opposition they were facing, but that sickly green whatever-it-was was coming closer by the moment and he didn't really want to stick around to find out what it would do-

Backing up as two of his opponents coordinated their attacks and a third circled around to approach from the side, Vaijon brought his boot heel down on a rock and skidded, staggering backwards. Arms windmilling for balance, wide open to a strike, all he could do was watch as the men facing him grinned nastily, swords coming around to spit him like a rabbit-

-and then there was another sword, blade glowing white, that arced over his shoulder to chop **through** one of the assassins' weapons, then twisted to stab the other man through the heart. It wrenched free as Vaijon landed flat on his back, and the demon Wufei was standing over him, twisting around to punch the third man away before he could strike the knight-probationer. His arm seemed to lengthen as he struck, driving the assassin out of sight, but that blow left him off balance and there were more men running around the corner of the trail-

- - - - - -

_=*Now!*=_ Sharna's voice snarled in his priest's head, and he threw the barbed chain before he even saw the small demon clearly. It knew its target, though, twisting through the air as its length uncoiled, steel hooks gleaming new-forged through the flaking dried blood left from its dedication sacrifice, and snapped securely around his neck and torso, barbs digging deep.

- - - - - -

-and Wufei screamed as something coiled around him, cutting through his link to Nataku as if it had never existed. It **burned**, cold green fire cutting into him wherever it touched his skin, and sharp hooks cut through his clothes into his flesh as he fought it.

"Sir Wufei?!" Vaijon's face was hovering over him, and he realised he'd collapsed. The thing seemed to coil tighter, choking him, and he tugged weakly at the length around his throat.

"Can't breathe..." he wheezed, struggling to focus as his vision blurred. Another hand joined his on the chain, then jerked away as the cold fire flared higher. He heard a muttered swear word, then a shout and a clang of weapons, and somebody stumbled over him-

"Bind them and bring them," a cold, satisfied voice said clearly. "Our Lord is hungry, and waiting..."


	27. Chapter 26

Krashnark seethed, pacing back and forth in the area of the Dark Gods' realm that was loosely defined as his 'quarters', glowing a pale red. Random items of furniture appeared out of the swirling mist around him, twisted and distorted by the force of his rage, lasting only seconds before evaporating again or being destroyed.

"That filth," he snarled to himself, smashing a small table to one side. "That worthless little **cockroach**! If he thinks our lord father will protect him from me, he's wrong. I'll crush him the way Wufei would crush one of his precious bugs if it dared to scuttle out from under its rock!"

_...Once I'm strong enough to do it __**and**__ block him from taking revenge in the mortal world, that is..._

Anger gave way to worry as he turned to stare at the glassy, shimmering spot in midair that he used to watch Wufei when he wasn't actually hovering invisible at the human/demon's side. Behind him, the roiling chaos began to settle down into the usual pattern he shaped his 'rooms' into as he concentrated his will on the shimmer, trying to force it to show something other than the vague green-streaked darkness it was reflecting.

_I shouldn't have used so much of my power making that link for him,_ he berated himself. _I should have done it some other time, not the night before he went into a battle against my idiot brother's forces. Or I should have cut it off sooner, instead of hanging on as long as I could maintain it. But he seemed so happy, talking to his friend... and I was __**sure**__ I had Sharna cowed! Where in Krahana's hells did he find the courage to defy me like that?!_

At the very least I should have realised before now that I had so little power available, curse it!

Scowling, Krashnark sent another pulse of power into the floating shimmer, and growled as even that tiny expense of energy made his glowing aura dim slightly. After effectively ignoring it for several hundred years, he finally had a reason to regret neglecting his church.

_They were boring, it's true,_ he thought sourly, _but boredom is no reason to neglect a duty. I stopped paying attention to the priests... four hundred years ago? Longer? They all seemed to be the same, cowering and fearful and crawling before me, begging for scraps of my power. They reminded me of my brother, damn it! Then, after my last Champions died, there wasn't anyone else who appealed to me, so I ignored the mortals except when there was a major war happening. The church still exists, if smaller, but... when did they stop really __**praying**__ to me?_

He still had his own strength, of course; the strength that made him his father's second-in-command instead of his older brother Fiendark, the strength that he could have sent to Wufei to use against his enemies if the annoyingly honourable little demon had just accepted his place as Krashnark's destined Champion. He would have noticed quickly enough if anything had happened to that! But the power that came from prayer, the power that he could use to do things only a god could do, things where he **didn't** have a Champion to use as a conduit - the power he could have used to stop Sharna from cutting Wufei off from **his** power - hadn't been there when he'd needed it. He'd had only the barest fraction of what should have been available, and he'd used it all up... and there was no-one involved in the fight who was even slightly inclined to worship him, so now that he was cut off from the anchor that Wufei would have provided, he couldn't even go there in person to watch.

"**Sharna** seems to have plenty, the little worm," he snarled, glaring at the faint acid-green smears across his scrying illusion. "Enough to help his priests summon demons. Enough to trap **my** chosen. Enough to stop me from even seeing what's happening to him!"

_I will wait,_ he decided grimly, forming a chair out of the mists with a flick of thought and settling into it, eyes fixed on the shimmer. _I will wait, and see if Torframos's Champions can save __**my**__ Champion. And when it is all over, I will take full and proper payment for every drop of blood, every moment of pain he suffers, out of my worthless little brother's hide!_

* * * * *

"I'm serious, Heero, I just know it! Wufei's **alive**!"

Heero blinked and wrapped his arms tighter around the braided teen's shoulders. "Duo, it was just a dream," he repeated. "You-"

"I know it was a dream!" Duo interrupted, raising his head to look him in the eye. "But it was still real! A true dream! We talked! Touched! He was surprised by my brace!"

"Dreams can be like that. Your subconscious-"

Duo put two fingers across the Japanese teen's lips, silencing him. "I **know** what your mind can do in dreams, and I know this sounds crazy... but it was **real**."

Heero sighed, then gently pulled Duo's hand away from his mouth. "Okay. Convince me."

"...what?"

"Convince me. I know **you**, Duo, and I know you're not crazy... no matter how much you may pretend, sometimes," he added dryly, settling back against the pillows and pulling Duo against his chest. "Whatever convinced you, it's got to be pretty good." _I hope!_ "What happened?"

Duo relaxed and let Heero hold his weight. "Well, it started with another nightmare about 'Fei getting blown away. Then something **twisted** and it was like I was floating, with mist and stuff all around. I started talking to myself-"

"As you do," Heero interrupted, smirking.

"-and the next thing, I heard Wufei say 'Duo?'," the long-haired teen continued, jabbing Heero in the stomach with his elbow without losing a beat. "We both thought it was some sort of freaky dream, at first, but we could actually **feel** each other... like you felt me just now. Ha. Then he brought up the brace, and the new t-shirt, and asked why he would dream about me in things he'd never seen before. He said he thought it was too 'concrete' to be an ordinary dream."

There was a slight pause while Duo thought about how best to put the next bit. He didn't think telling Heero that a god had turned up and spoken to them both would help the story's credibility. It didn't feel good to keep anything from his boyfriend, but maybe if he just left that bit out? _It's not like __**lying**__, after all... just, ah, 'editing for content', maybe?_

Ugh. Still feels bad.

He sighed, and went on. "Wufei's exact words were, 'If this is my dream, why would I invent a leg brace and a new t-shirt for you? If this is **your** dream, why would I - a figment of your imagination - be surprised by them? Either one of us is dreaming far more imaginatively than normal, or-' Then he told me to smell him. Heero, he smelled like grass and woodsmoke."

Heero blinked. "I don't see how that-"

"Think about it," Duo interrupted impatiently. "Have you ever smelled anything in a dream? **Really** smelled it, I mean, instead of just knowing how something **should** smell, or waking up to find out that the smell was in the air where you were and just got incorporated into the dream?"

"That's... a valid point," Heero said slowly. "And if the Doctors are correct, and he's been pulled into a different leg of the 'trousers of time'," he continued, getting a snicker from Duo, "then it **is** possible that, thanks to some lingering connection to this world, he might be able to contact you when your mental barriers were down for sleep. Still, that would almost certainly take incredible amounts of energy! Where did that come from?"

"Pleased to hear you saying 'did' and not 'would'," Duo said lightly, covering an inward wince as he mentally deleted any mention of gods and magic from the story. _Plausible but not a lie, plausible but not a lie..._ "Well, we spent more time discussing what happened to everyone than how we were managing to have the conversation. If we're talking **theoretically**," he said carefully, "what about the energy from the gun? That was a pretty cataclysmic sort of thing, you know; there was enough from that to do just about anything, I'll bet, and the Doctors said it came from the 'trouser fabric'. What if he could draw on that? Maybe it never really left him?"

"True, and plausible," Heero agreed, nodding. "Given a source of energy and a 'connection', for want of a better term, and the oddities of the dream itself, I'd have to agree that it's possible... and I certainly can't prove it's **not**!" He thought for a moment longer, frowning, and then shrugged. "All right. I'm at least provisionally convinced."

Duo sighed happily, then winced again at the next question.

"So, did he say where he is? What it's like? Anything?"

"Um... he said he was okay. He ended up in some sort of mediaeval-type world," the injured boy said, thinking fast and editing out all the unbelievable parts. "There are knights and peasants... no guns or anything... he said they even thought he and Shenlong were demons at first. But he's met some good people. Some of them aren't human, though - he said something about them having a few non-human intelligent species! They have different languages, of course, but he's catching on quick. He said it's really interesting, and that I'd love it there." A soft sigh escaped him.

Heero hugged him closer. "You really miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah, a lot," Duo nodded. "He told me not to miss him so much I screw up what I've got, though!" He turned slightly, snuggling against Heero's chest, and went on after a few moments. "He's my best friend... like the brother I never had. Like Solo was, kind of. I could tell him anything. He may not have shown it to you guys, but he always had time for me. He read to me when I couldn't sleep, listened when I bitched about Relena, commiserated, cheered me up when things went wrong... he even gave me advice about you."

"About me?!" Heero asked, surprised.

The other teen chuckled. "Yeah. He'd tell me when I was being an idiot, throwing myself at you or whatever. He said to be more subtle; you already had Relena stalking you, and you didn't need me to join the Scary Brigade. Oh! He was **totally** shocked at Relena's turnaround. He said that her giving up on you and being nice to me was less plausible than anything that had happened to him!"

Heero laughed along with his boyfriend, then sobered. "Do you think this will happen again? This real dream?"

Duo shook his head sadly. "I don't think so. It felt like a one-time deal."

The Japanese teen pressed a comforting kiss to Duo's temple. "It's early, but not too early," he said, changing the subject. "Do you want to stay up, or try to get a little more sleep?"

"Maybe sleep a little more? Like this, if it's okay. I'm comfortable."

"It's fine, Duo. I'm comfortable too. Go to sleep."

Silence descended on the room, and ten minutes later Heero thought the other teen had drifted back to sleep. He closed his eyes, trying to digest everything Duo had told him. Part of him stubbornly refused to accept that Duo could have received a mental message from another world - technically a completely different **reality** - in his sleep... but another, even more stubborn part of his mind insisted that this was **Duo**. Duo was not crazy, or gullible, or stupid, and therefore there had to be some concrete truth behind his conviction...

It was a difficult concept to grasp, and he could tell it was going to take him some time to absorb-

"Heero... are you still awake?"

"Yes, Duo, is there something wrong?"

"Um... will you help me to the bathroom? I have to pee..."

* * * * *

Vaijon leaned back against the rough wall where he'd been chained, panting slightly. Their captors had forced the knight-probationer and armsmen to run at what would have been their best speed if their arms **hadn't** been bound tightly behind them, and he'd fallen several times, only to be yanked roughly to his feet and forced onwards.

"Not precisely the way we want to enter a Dark God's temple, is it, Sir Vaijon?" Karthan muttered almost absent-mindedly from his place next to the blond human, craning his neck and peering towards the other side of the good-sized chamber. "Sword in hand and together with a lot more of the Order's fighting men would be better, I think..."

_Myself leading the charge, a Champion glowing with the God's fire,_ thought Vaijon automatically, a lifetime's fantasies supplying the way it **should** have been; he grimaced, dismissing the thought, and tugged experimentally at his manacles. "Even if I had my sword right now, it wouldn't be doing me much good," he muttered back bitterly, trying to flex his burned right hand and not having much success. "I should have tried to pull that thing off him with my off hand, not my **sword** hand!"

"How is it?"

"It doesn't hurt," Vaijon said shortly. "I'd feel better if it did."

The dwarf glanced up at the white, seared flesh and winced sympathetically. "Well, if we get out of this with our skins more-or-less intact, Sir Uthmar and Sir Arwen should be able to do something for it. Assuming they can fight their way through to us in time, that is... or if we can do something for ourselves."

Vaijon gave one last, futile yank at the chain holding him to the wall and sagged, blowing out his breath with a sigh. The damn thing didn't even **rattle**, curse it, it was so heavy and well-greased against rust that it just clanked dully. "Quite frankly, Sir Karthan, and yes I know you're not a knight but you **are** the voice of experience here... I am **completely** open to suggestions."

There was a faint, pained chuckle from his other side. "First thing I've heard you say that didn't sound like you had the family banner up yer arse, flagpole an' all," Jens grunted, shifting to ease the roughly bandaged wound in his shoulder. "May be there's hope for you yet... sir."

The knight-probationer stiffened, mouth opening for an automatic freezing rebuke... and then stopped.

_I am probably going to die,_ he admitted to himself, staring blindly across the chamber, past the twenty or so assassins who had brought them in, at the huge stone scorpion looming over the blood-caked altar. _Soon. Not gloriously, or heroically, or even peacefully. I am going to die __**badly**__, and Sharna will eat my soul. Why waste my last moments snarling at one of the only people here who __**isn't**__ going to cheer the priests on, just because he isn't giving me the respect due my birth and position? As if that matters right now!_

"Under the circumstances, Jens," he said, a little stiffly, "I'm going to take that as a sort of warped, back-handed, possibly sarcastic compliment. Thank you. Would you happen to have anything a little more constructive to contribute, perhaps on the subject of how we get **out** of here? We can return to the question of flagpoles when we have a little more free time."

Jens gaped incredulously at him, but quiet sputtering sounds from the other side of the human armsman indicated that the other members of the party were appreciating the comment.

"Gods save us, Gunnar's rubbing off on him, too..."

"I have a bit of an idea," Karthan whispered tensely, ignoring the byplay. "Can you see where they've taken Wufei? It's not going to work without him, and I can't reach him through our link."

At six foot four inches in height, Vaijon had the best view of anyone in the group, and he nodded grimly as he looked back towards the altar. "I can see him," he said quietly, "and I think you'd better come up with a different plan..."

* * * * *

"Dammit!" Duo muttered, flopping back on the bed. "I was **sure** I'd do it today..."

"This is nothing for you to upset yourself over, Mister Maxwell. Your knee is just not ready to bend yet, that's all," Dr. Modi said calmly, patting the braided teen's good leg.

"I almost did it yesterday, and almost did it this morning, and **almost** did it just now! Why won't it cooperate?!" Duo pouted.

The doctor chuckled and waved to the brand-new forearm crutches standing proudly next to the bed. "I am quite sure you will manage it soon. Now, since your magnificent custom crutches have arrived, and the incision has stabilised sufficiently to survive any minor accidental strains you may put on it as you swing your way around, why don't you take a walk around the hospital? Perhaps you could buy your Mister Yui a cup of coffee in the cafeteria?" he said with a smile. "I promise you, the cafeteria food is of a far higher standard than the patient breakfasts..."

"You mean I can hobble anywhere I want?" the teenager asked, pout turning into a grin as he reached for the matte black crutches, covered in silver lightning bolts and scythes.

"As long as I have your word that you will put absolutely **no** weight on that leg during your travels," the older man replied, walking towards the door and opening it.

"You got a deal, Doc! Hey, Heero, get in here and help me put my sweats on! We're going for a walk!" he called through the doorway.

The doctor nodded politely to the Japanese teen as they passed in the doorway, and continued down the hall towards his next patient examination. Back in the room, Heero opened Duo's bag, pulled out a pair of sweat pants and started helping his boyfriend into them.

"Since you haven't told me to pack your bag, I assume we're not leaving today?"

The braided teen sighed. "No, this stupid leg just doesn't want to cooperate yet." He brightened. "But the doc said I could wander around, so I'm taking you down to the cafeteria and buying you a coffee or something. Consider it our first date!"

Heero blinked. "Okay... uh, Relena, Quatre and Trowa should be here soon. I'll just leave a note on the door, telling them to come find us." One scribbled note later, he was following Duo as the American pilot swung merrily off down the hall.

_Our first date, huh?_ he thought, watching his boyfriend carefully, ready to grab him at any sign of unsteadiness. _Not exactly the most romantic place... but it __**is**__ a start._

He never realised there was a small smile on his face.

- - - - - -

Quatre sighed as he and Trowa stepped into the cafeteria, shortly before 3pm. "I was hoping we could bring him home today," he said, a small frown on his face. "You know how depressed he gets when he's cooped up..." His voice trailed off in surprise as Duo's cheerful laughter floated across the nearly empty room.

"He certainly doesn't **sound** depressed," Trowa replied, smirking as he led his blond lover over to the table in the back corner. "Good afternoon, Duo. I see the poor doctor has had enough and banished you to this dungeon."

"Yeah, it's pure torture! Forced to drink this slop they call coffee! Fate worse than death, I tell you," the braided teen said, chuckling. "Better than their icky fake vitamin-fortified OJ, but still a fate worse than death. Plus, my jailer," he motioned to Heero, "forced a slice of apple pie on me. Terrible, just terrible!"

"And now this jailer thinks we should head back to your room," Heero said, helping Duo out of the chair and handing him the crutches. "The previously wicked queen will probably be along soon, and we don't want to have that meeting out in public."

"Especially not if she makes good on her threat to kidnap me and you have to kick her ass," Duo nodded solemnly, negotiating his way between tables. "Wouldn't **that** look good on a front page or thirty?"

Quatre was left speechless, staring after the Japanese boy as he walked out beside Duo. Trowa chuckled and nudged him forwards, breaking him out of his daze.

"You're not hallucinating, Quatre. That really **is** Heero Yui. New, improved model, with a visible sense of humour..."

Quatre just shook his head and followed the other pilots.

- - - - - -

"Duo! Should you be up?" Relena exclaimed, dropping part of a stack of folders as she nearly bumped into him outside the room. "Is your leg all right? You're not overexerting yourself, are you?"

"Calm down, Pretty!" he said, carefully manoeuvring around the fallen papers and swinging across to the bed. "It's okay. Doctor Modi said it's fine for me to wander around now, so long as I stay off the leg. Come on in and get settled!"

Heero crouched down and started gathering the folders up, nodding for Relena to go in.

"I think we've missed something there too, Trowa," Quatre said under his breath.

"Looks that way... and I can't wait to find out what," his lover whispered back, before crossing the room and settling into a chair.

Heero dropped his burden on the wheeled table, pushed it over next to Relena, and perched on the edge of the bed next to Duo. "So, what exactly do you need our advice on?" he asked calmly, without any of the wariness he usually showed when the 'Pink Princess' was around.

"Quite a few things, actually, but the most important one is the question of some sort of policing agency for the whole Earth Sphere," she said, opening a folder and passing around papers. "We're setting up a sort of parliamentary or congressional system for the government, where regions on Earth and each colony will have representatives. In the future, of course, they'll be properly elected to their positions by their region's people, but we've already got a temporary structure in place, made up of surviving pre-Alliance rulers and politicians... and they're already arguing. Some want a military force, with anywhere up to wartime-level powers. Others want a civilian police force, less power but in fancier uniforms - in fact, some want a police force that's so watered down that we might as well use them as school crossing guards, because they certainly won't be able to do anything more useful! The rest of us want something in the middle..."

"Like a **paramilitary** police force," Heero put in. "A force that could handle terrorist threats, and small military forces, yet not be an actual army."

"I agree," Quatre nodded. "Especially if it's run with the proper emphasis on..."

Duo lost track of the conversation almost immediately. He had a niggling feeling that something was badly wrong, but what that 'something' was, he had no idea. His leg wasn't bothering him, there were no missions to worry about, Relena's presence was no longer a teeth-grinding annoyance **or** a security threat... so what could it be?

* * * * *

Wufei spent most of the hurried journey to the hidden temple slung over a brawny human's shoulder, dangling head-down, struggling just to breathe and stay conscious. The barbed chain wound around him had somehow blocked his newly-formed links to Karthan and Nataku, and the cold fire running along it was slowly burning into him, sapping his strength until he could barely twitch a finger. And when he **did** manage to move, slowly working one hand out from under a loop, it shifted as if it were alive, coiling back around his wrist and digging hooks into his skin.

_Magic,_ he thought painfully, thoughts moving as sluggishly as if he'd been concussed. _Obvious magic. And since there isn't a god yelling in my ear... I think he's blocked too. Which means... this has to be his brother's doing._

Several minutes of slow thought later, it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't completely cut off from his 'godly stalker'. He'd become so used to trying **not** to think his name, but perhaps...

_...Krashnark?_

=*He can't help you now,*= a gloating voice said in his mind, higher-pitched than Krashnark's low tenor but otherwise similar. _=*My __**big brother**__,*=_ he went on, putting sarcastic emphasis on the words, _=*thinks he can order me around, but he doesn't even have the power to break through my shield to __**see**__ you, let alone save you. I might let him watch as my priest tortures you to death, though...*=_

Wufei's thoughts froze for a moment in shock, before a wave of cold fury drove away the haze clouding his mind. _Wonderful,_ he thought acidly. _Childish sibling rivalry on a grand scale. 'You keep hitting me, so I'm going to break your toys', is it? Could you possibly be any more immature?!_

He could feel Sharna's mind recoil in startlement for a moment. _=*You- who do you think you are?!*=_ the god sputtered eventually. _=*How dare you speak to me like that?! You'll be begging for mercy in a few minutes, and-*=_

As if grovelling would make you treat me any better, Wufei snapped back. _You're planning to have me tortured to death and you want me to be __**polite**__ to you?! Your brother's right; you're a moron!_

=*You- what- I'm a _**god**__!*=_

And I should care about that fact... why? he answered, mental 'voice' dripping sarcasm. _Hmm. You don't sound as much like Krashnark as I thought you did at first. He doesn't sputter. Or __**whine**__._

One last angry, incoherent noise, and the sense of Sharna's presence was gone.

_Duo's been a bad influence on me,_ Wufei thought, anger fading into exhaustion. _I really have to stop insulting every god I meet; it's becoming a habit._

Considering his situation, it was impressive that it only took about ten seconds before he did a mental double-take at that thought.

- - - - - -

As he passed through the hidden entrance to the underground temple, ducking his head in a sketchy reverence to the scorpion carved into the stone above the door, the assassin carrying Wufei used the movement to glance warily back at his limp burden. People marked for sacrifice, being carried semi-conscious into the temple where they are to die, are not usually snickering quietly to themselves...

- - - - - -

Wufei had been brought in with a little more consideration for his physical well-being than the members of the Order of Torframos had received - the idea being to keep him in as good condition as possible until the moment when the ceremony of sacrifice started - so they travelled faster, and were already chained in a line to the back wall of the central chamber when he was carried in and stretched out on the altar. Vaijon was taller than anyone else in the room, and the chamber had been carefully designed so that everyone within it had a good chance of getting a good view of whatever 'entertainment' was in progress, so he had no problem seeing exactly what was going on... and it wasn't encouraging.

"I think you'd better come up with a different plan, Uthmar," he said quietly. "One that doesn't require Sir Wufei's participation. That chain doesn't seem to have burned him the way it did me," his hand twitched, "and he's certainly alive, but... he doesn't seem to be truly conscious. Or as strong as usual," he added, voice dropping to a puzzled murmur.

The high priest had two acolytes (or minor priests, or perhaps just random cultists dressed in fancy robes - Vaijon didn't know how to tell the various grades of Sharna's priesthood apart and didn't really want to learn, beyond the basic recognition required for 'evil cultist, kill') holding Wufei still as he carefully unwound and rearranged the barbed chain, moving it so that his arms and legs were free while taking scrupulous care to always have at least one loop of it around his neck or torso. The men holding him had probably been chosen for strength more than piety, and were gripping his wrists and ankles tightly enough for their white knuckles to be obvious even from where the prisoners stood, but it was also obvious that they weren't really necessary; Wufei's eyes were glazed, almost closed, and the few movements he made were weak and uncoordinated.

"He's acting like someone who's taken a solid blow to the head," Vaijon went on, "and I know that didn't happen, so-"

"-he has to be under a spell," Karthan finished for him, sagging slightly. "Bound into that chain, no doubt, and also probably the reason why I can't contact him through our link. Damn. That **does** scuttle my idea... unless they're going to take the spell off him once they have him chained down, to make him experience the ceremony 'properly'."

The blond knight-probationer raised an eyebrow, inviting further explanation. "Since I doubt they'll remove the spell unless he's restrained so securely even **he** won't be able to break free, I fail to see how that will help."

"I don't need his physical participation," Karthan told him, dropping his voice to a bare whisper so as to not be overheard. "I just need his attention... and the link. If we can't re-establish our link, this idea really **is** doomed."

_And so are we, if we don't come up with something else,_ Vaijon noted privately. Sliding down the wall to crouch on his heels, manacles pulling his arms up over his head, he did his best to look like someone who was just trying to find a comfortable position and brought his ear closer to Karthan's mouth. "Even a flawed plan is at least a start... and I have, as yet, no ideas at all," he admitted dryly. Some random impulse made him glance up at Jens, remembering the 'family banner' comment, and a faint smile quirked his mouth as he switched into his best Court accent. "I pray thee of thy courtesy, good Sir Karthan, **do** go on."

Focussed on the need to get free before Sharna's worshippers could really get started, Karthan managed to take that comment with only a filthy glare and a few violent beard-twitches before starting to explain.

- - - - - -

Despite Wufei's best intentions - and previous practice at escaping from seemingly hopeless situations - he wasn't coordinated enough to take advantage of the moment when his bearer laid him down on the altar, the hooked chain loosened slightly, and the men responsible for restraining him hadn't yet taken hold.

_And even if I were coordinated enough, right now I'm so weak that __**Une**__ would be able to hold me down,_ he thought sourly, trying to kick the man holding his ankles and managing absolutely nothing. _Alone. Without her glasses on!_

I can't even _**see**__ properly-_

The hands holding him abruptly pulled, spread-eagling him, and he could feel someone else fumbling at his wrists and ankles; a cold hand dropped to touch the chain where it was still looped around his throat, someone muttered something under their breath, and he could abruptly see and feel clearly again. His first convulsive move made it clear that he'd been solidly bound in place, though, and he slowly allowed himself to relax, glaring at the robed man smiling thinly down at him. _The links are still gone,_ he realised. _I could probably break loose using the 'extra' strength my link to Nataku gives me, but... I don't have it right now. Luckily for __**him**__._

"Good morning, my lord demon," the man said pleasantly, spreading his hands. "Welcome to the House of the Scorpion."

Wufei paused for barely a second before he smiled nastily back. _Oh, why not? It's better than doing what they expect, begging for mercy or acting nobly defiant-_ "You really should be more careful who you invite in, you know," he said calmly, noting the slight flicker of surprise in the priest's eyes with a certain amount of satisfaction. "I killed the last person I saw dressed like you."

"So I've heard." The priest recovered his composure quickly, tucking his hands into his flowing sleeves and nodding. "My lord Sharna is a trifle... **annoyed** with you for that, shall we say?"

"He's throwing a childish shit fit, you mean," was the blunt reply. "From what I've heard, he does that a lot. Don't you get tired of it?"

"You are determined to be as irritating as possible, aren't you?" the robed man asked in an amused voice, wisely ignoring the last comment.

"It gives me some personal satisfaction, and can't really make my situation any worse, can it?" Wufei flicked his hands in a sort of abbreviated shrug, accompanied by a dull rattle from the heavy chains attached to his manacles. Behind the priest, he could see the dark-clad men who had captured his group slowly filtering out of the room, replaced by an equal number of men who seemed to be bulkier, on average, and with more visible weapons, but who somehow struck him as less dangerous. _The heavily-armed ones are soldier-types, as opposed to... hm. Spies and assassins?_ He nearly laughed. _Of course they seem more dangerous to me; they're the local equivalent of terrorists and guerrillas. __**My**__ equivalent!_

"**Excellent** point!" the priest agreed cheerfully, drawing Wufei's attention back to the conversation. He turned away for a moment, pushing up his sleeves as he examined something one of his assistants was holding out, but kept talking. "I have to admit that your attitude is a refreshing change, really. Normally, people in your position seem to think that not only could things get worse if they say the wrong thing, things could get **better** if they say the **right** thing," he mused, hand hovering over the contents of a tray for a moment before he nodded and made his choice. "I have to put up with a lot of useless begging and pleading for mercy, and it's nice to have something different to listen to for once... though I'm sure we'll get to the begging and pleading eventually, of course," he sighed, turning back towards Wufei with a short knife in his hand.

"Shall we get started?" he asked brightly, cold eyes and thin smile making an unpleasant contrast to the false warmth in his voice. "I hate to cut this conversation short, but my lord Sharna doesn't like to be kept waiting..."

- - - - - -

"Are you getting anywhere?" Vaijon hissed, glancing down at Karthan. The shuffling worshippers were clustering nearer to the altar, beginning to settle to their knees, and no-one seemed to be paying any attention to the 'extra' prisoners any more; since there was no longer any need to keep their voices down to bare whispers, he was standing up for a better view again. "They've taken the spell off, at least partly - he seems to be properly awake again - but I don't think that's going to last!"

"I'm **trying**," Karthan gritted out, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally hammered at the closed link. _Wufei? Wufei! Can you hear me?_ "Is the chain still on him?"

"Yes-"

"**Shit**." _So much for this idea,_ he thought darkly. _Well, all I can do is keep trying and hope Uthmar and Arwen get here in time... Wufei! Answer me, damn you! __**Wufei**__!_

The last couple of assassins slipped quietly out of the chamber, glancing uneasily behind them as they left, and Vaijon twisted to watch them go. "Where are they off to?" he muttered, half to himself. "I'd expect them to be in the front row, gloating over being the ones who caught us..."

"The dog brothers're assassins, not cultists," Jens said tiredly, shrugging his good shoulder. "Sharna may be their patron god, an' they may do dirty work for his church, but they don't **worship** the bastard, not really. They kill, but they don't torture; I hear they charge extra if you want them to kill someone slow instead'a just shootin' them."

"Ah." Vaijon digested that for a moment, then nodded towards the men who had replaced the assassins. "So they are...?"

"**Real** cultists." The armsman spat on the floor in front of him, scowling. "The sort that **want** to live in a hidden temple instead'a in a city, 'cause that's where the sacrifices happen. I'd say these're the temple guard; the assassins'll be swapping with 'em so they can get in here."

"Ah. I, ah, I see," Vaijon said, a little sickly. There was a brief pause, and then he burst out with, "No. No, I **don't** see. They want to watch people die that much?!"

"You've made it to knight-probationer and you don't **know** this stuff?" someone muttered incredulously on Jens's other side, and Vaijon blushed fiery red.

"They don't want to just **see** people die," Jens explained carefully, looking at the blond with something like pity. "They want a **taste** of 'em." Seeing Vaijon's horrified expression, he nodded. "They don't call their sacrifices 'Feasts of Sharing' f'no reason. Sir. Sharna gets the soul, an' these bastards-" he jerked his chin at the worshippers, mouth twisting as if he wanted to spit again "-get the rest."

Vaijon swallowed hard a few times and then nodded, a bit jerkily but still polite. "I see," he repeated numbly. "Thank you." Glancing one more time at Karthan's tense face, he went back to watching the group around the altar, sending a silent but heartfelt prayer to Torframos as he did.

- - - - - -

"Unfortunately, I won't have the opportunity to show you my **best** work," the priest sighed, discarding the last shred of Wufei's clothing and handing the knife back to his assistant as he ran his eyes appraisingly over the bared flesh before him. "Given a strong subject, I can make a sacrifice last for **days**, but in your case I have to balance the desire to extract every bit of power against the need to finish before those two Champions come knocking down my door- oh, I see you've done this before!" he laughed, fingertip tracing the thin scars left by an OZ sergeant's knife on Wufei's stomach. "Someone else got to you first... what a pity!"

"I doubt you'd consider him to be in your league," the human/demon said evenly, keeping revulsion and anger out of his expression with an effort.

"No doubt," he agreed, turning away to consider the tray of knives again. "Did you kill him too?"

"A friend did me that favour."

"Can't have that this time," the priest murmured absent-mindedly, testing the edge of a long, narrow blade against his thumb. "Now... where to begin..." Resting the tip of the blade lightly on Wufei's skin just below his navel, he turned his head to examine his victim's face, eyes glittering cruelly. "Any more bold comments? Defiant speeches? Swear words, even? You can spit if you like, it's been done before."

"You're enjoying this entirely too much, you know," Wufei said flatly. _And I will see you __**dead**__!_

"Ahh, but is there really such a thing as 'too much' when you're talking about **fun**?" the priest purred, and made the first cut.

* * * * *

_I need to be listening to this!_ Duo thought, annoyed at himself. _I've got the chance to help plan something that could do a lot of good, and I'm sitting here twitching because I've got random heebie-jeebies... ow!_

Damn. I like these boxers, but the waistband must have a scratchy seam or something... Rubbing surreptitiously at the suddenly aching, prickling spot on his stomach, he concentrated his attention on the conversation going on around him.


	28. Chapter 27

"Now, it's understanding I'll be if y'tell me to mind my own business, seein' as how things are a tad busy right now," Cord said conversationally, blocking a sword strike with his axe, "but would y'mind tellin' me how come you and th'lad there aren't glowing yet?"

Uthmar snorted, not taking his eyes off his own opponents. "Because using Torframos's power against a pack of perfectly ordinary mortals would be as good as murder, which Champions aren't really supposed to do," he answered shortly, grunting as he cut one cultist down and twisted to block a cut from another. "We'll glow for demons, mages, and spell-casting priests."

"I think I'm seein' your point," the giant hradani mused, kicking his momentarily distracted opponent back into the press of cultists, probably with a few broken ribs to keep him occupied. The first green-clad soldier who lunged forwards into the gap went down with an arrow in one eye, and Cord had a second to turn and nod his thanks to Naiya and Terrin, who were standing on top of the baggage cart with bows. "It wouldna be **fair** to take an unfair advantage against plain ordinary people, is that it?"

"Essentially," Uthmar agreed, wondering where this was going. There was a dangerous glitter in Cord's eyes, and an edge to his voice that didn't go with his calm delivery...

"Then would y'do me the favour of explainin' just how goin' down under three-to-one odds can be considered **fair**?" Cord rumbled, smashing a cultist to the ground with an overhand stroke.

Uthmar had to admit - privately, at least - that he had a point. Normally, he would have said that forty-five fighters, two of them Champions, would have been more than enough to handle whatever forces were protecting a hidden temple to a Dark god, and normally he would have been right... but the one thing he could be sure of at the moment was that the situation was **not** normal. If things had been 'normal', his armsmen wouldn't have been surrounded by over three times their number of well-armed cultists and backed into a tight defensive ring around the cart and their nominal 'noncombatants', who were proving to be surprisingly good shots.

_At least they didn't hit us until __**after**__ we were all up, awake, and armed for the march..._ "It's the principle of the thing," he said, a little weakly.

"**Principles**, is it?" Cord said derisively. "From what I've seen, little man, **principles** are the things that'll get you killed when your enemies use 'em against you! All else bein' equal, if one side's got principles an' the other don't, it's the side without 'em that'll win - and y'can hardly argue that things are equal here!"

Uthmar opened his mouth to argue, but the hradani wasn't listening any more. The dwarf on his other side went down as a sword point found a weak spot in his armour, and he dragged the wounded armsman out of harm's way, blocking the stroke meant to finish him off.

"Now, you just sit here quiet until- well, if it isn't the Jester t'the Gods," he chuckled, leaning Gunnar back against one of the cart's wheels and gently probing his wound. "Didn't recognise you with y'helmet on. I'm thinking there's no need to be in such a hurry to go and take up your new job, lad!"

Gunnar winced, but managed a lopsided grin. "Actually, I was rather planning to stay here. **Somebody's** got to keep all the rampant egos around here in check!"

"Aye, well, if the Champions'll just get their thumbs out, we might be able to manage somethin'," Cord grumbled, turning to go.

The dwarf stopped him with a hand on his arm. "While I understand that principles can be a bit of a pain," he winced, "sometimes literally, and personally I agree with you that the current odds are a good argument for relaxing those principles... sometimes, all else being equal, principles are the only way you can tell which side is which." His smile faded. "Our situation isn't what I'm worried about right now, though."

"Oh? And what would you be worryin' about, then?"

"Wufei," Gunnar said grimly. "He hasn't come back, and Nataku's just sitting there... and our opponents have hardly even **looked** at Nataku, like they know she can't do a thing to stop them. They've done something to him, I'm sure of it."

"Aye, that's not good, but-"

"It's worse than 'not good'!" Hissing in pain, Gunnar slumped back against the wheel, hand pressed to his bloodied side. "I can think of two possibilities, both damn nasty. One, he's a demon, and was originally summoned by a priest of Sharna. Judging by what Naiya and Rami told us, he broke free before they could perform the second sacrifice and bind him into obedience. I don't think they can continue the process with a different priest, but what if they can? What if they're planning to do the second sacrifice now? Two, and more likely..." He took a deep breath. "What if he **is** the sacrifice? Think about it. There's probably more power and potential wrapped up in him than in anyone else in this world. If a priest of Sharna gets his hands on that sort of power... what d'you think he's going to do with it?"

"...Nowt we'll like," Cord said eventually.

"'Aye'," Gunnar agreed, mimicking Cord's accent dryly. "Which is why we have to get out of this mess and help him. Fast."

"Which means it's time to ditch the Phrobus-damned principles," Cord growled, ears slanting backwards. "I'll just be borrowing this then, if y'don't mind," he added, switching his logging axe into his left hand and picking up Gunnar's double-bladed war axe in his right.

- - - - - -

Uthmar traded blows with a succession of opponents, swearing under his breath as one after another ducked backwards, pulling out of reach to take a breather as another cultist stepped in to take their place. _They're just working to hold us in place and wear us down, not trying to kill us immediately... and I'm not even managing to seriously wound many of them, let alone kill them!_ he fumed, slashing in vain at one more retreating figure. _I don't have time to evaluate one fighter's style and find an opening before he pulls back and I've got to start again, and I don't have the brute strength necessary to smash __**through**__ their defences in one or two blows, unlike Cord._

A niggling, guilty thought popped up in the back of his mind. _But I would if I just used some of Torframos's power..._

He shook his head, dismissing the idea, and chopped at his next opponent's legs. _That's not an option, no matter what Cord says. And speaking of Cord... the way he fights, it's damn clear that he's not just an ordinary smith and forester! Not that I really thought he was. Hradani aren't the most feared and hated race on this world for nothing, and Horse Stealer hradani are-_

A deep-throated bellow came from behind him, almost a roar, and he barely had time to duck out of the way as Cord charged straight past him into the thick of the enemy forces, striking right and left and leaving a trail of shattered bodies behind him.

_-more frightening than the rest,_ Uthmar finished, watching wide-eyed as the enemy forces fragmented around the hradani. _I've never actually seen hradani in battle, but I'd heard... oh damn! He's gone berserk, he's not watching his rear and they're coming in behind him-!_

Without thinking about it, he reached for Torframos's power and charged after the hradani, blazing golden fire surrounding him.

* * * * *

Wufei hissed in pain as the priest carved another line into his stomach, and then cursed inwardly as a quiet laugh let him know he'd been heard. Worse than the pain, though, was the slow **pulling** sensation, as if each slice, each drop of blood, was taking something out of his soul... and the huge stone scorpion looming over him was starting to glow faintly green.

"I'm impressed," the priest said in an almost friendly voice, cutting slightly higher this time as he drew some sort of pattern on Wufei's skin. "That's the first involuntary sound you've made. You're not struggling, either... I don't suppose you're actually **enjoying** this, are you?"

"Hardly," Wufei snarled. "I am **not** a masochist."

"I thought not, but it was worth asking," the priest mused, wiping up a trickle of blood with one finger and licking it off. "Hmm... interesting. I'm not sure whether you really do taste slightly different to normal humans, or whether I'm imagining it."

"I have no idea," Wufei said shortly, and closed his eyes, concentrating. The cutting started again, darts of pain across his inner thighs, but he dismissed it from his mind.

_It's not important,_ he told himself, reaching inwards. _An illusion... the world is an illusion. My body is an illusion. Pain is an illusion. I can simply refuse to perceive them, and leave them behind..._

- - - - - -

Muttering under his breath, a quiet echo of the prayers being chanted by the worshippers behind him, the priest made another delicate slice into the meat of his victim's thigh. Blood welled up, dribbling across golden-tan skin in beautiful patterns, and his smile widened as he drew in the power flowing from the wounded body-

-and then faded, as the spread-eagled demon abruptly relaxed and the power flowing from him dwindled to nothing.

_Eh?! What's going on? As long as he's alive and able to feel pain, he shouldn't be able to block me- He hasn't __**died**__, has he?!_ Alarmed, he reached out to feel the sacrifice's throat, hardly feeling the sting as the hooked chain caught on his skin. The demon had **looked** strong, but you never could tell about a person's heart, and then there had been that embarrassing incident with the girl who'd turned out to be a spy, carrying poison to save her from questioning... it had saved her from something else, and totally ruined the summoning ceremony. The memory of Sharna's fury made him wince.

A strong, slow pulse beat under his fingers, and he frowned. "What **are** you doing?" he asked lightly, none of his alarm showing in his voice as he twisted the boy's head to face him. _Even if he's passed out, that shouldn't affect... eh? What __**has**__ he done to himself?!_

The face looking back at him was slack, eyes almost shut and unseeing, a complete contrast to the angry, resentful, **alive** features that he'd been laughing at only seconds before. "Come on now, wake up," he said, slapping the demon's cheek. "You can't hide like that... wake **up**!" A second, stronger blow had no effect either, and the quiet chant behind him faltered as the cultists realised something was wrong.

One of the underpriests moved forward, swallowing nervously. "My lord, is there-" He flinched back, out of arms' reach, as the high priest snarled and slashed the slender knife across the sacrifice's chest, gouging a deep furrow through skin and muscle until the fragile blade twisted in his hand and snapped.

"He didn't feel it," he muttered, staring into the demon's face and searching in vain for any reaction. "He's alive, and **not** unconscious, yet somehow he didn't feel it... and he **has** to, or this will not **work**! What did he do?!"

- - - - - -

As several former members of OZ - including Lady Une - could have told the priest, torture will get you nowhere if your victim can put himself into a trance. Wufei was only distantly aware of his body; he felt no pain, and although he could still see and hear what was going on around him, it seemed about as real and important as an old black-and-white film, out of focus and echoing faintly. If someone he trusted told him it was safe to come back he would be able to hear and respond, but until then he could just drift in soothing warmth...

* * * * *

Still rubbing idly at the prickling spot on his stomach, Duo turned his attention back to Quatre's voice.

"...probably be best to have a group overseeing it, I think. If there's one qualified person in charge, we can avoid arguments about who has jurisdiction over what, and if they are then answerable to a committee there shouldn't be..."

Another dull pain moved across his abdomen, and Duo lost track again. _What the hell?_ he thought, fingers moving to the new spot under his blanket. _I can't feel anything there, and it doesn't hurt any more or less when I touch it, so what's-_

Another pain, this one below his ribcage, made him jump slightly. Another, and another...

"But who would be best for the leadership position?" Relena's voice broke through his distraction. "And what title should they have? I realise that question may seem trivial, but believe me, some of the people I have to convince to vote for this will panic if it sounds at all 'Napoleonistic' or 'aggressive'..."

Duo tried to pay attention, but a sudden prickling, burning feeling up and down his inner thighs made it difficult. He barely managed to suppress a wince.

"I think- Duo, are you all right?" Trowa's concerned voice gave him an anchor, and he looked up to see everyone watching him.

"Yeah, Tro... s'okay. I'm just a little stiff and sore. Keep going, I'm fine," he replied, forcing himself to grin. He squirmed on the bed slightly, then let out a relieved sigh as the pain suddenly faded.

"If you're sure," Heero started, leaning forwards to stroke his boyfriend's cheek.

"It's fine, Heero; I just needed to get more comfortable, I guess," Duo replied, leaning briefly into the caress. "We were trying to decide on who should head this 'peacekeeping group', right?" At everyone's nod he continued: "Well, I know this is going to sound kind of flaky... but what about Lady Une?"

* * * * *

Down on his knees, forehead pressed to the side of the bloodstained altar, the high priest prayed desperately. _My lord Sharna, forgive me, but something has gone wrong. I-_

_=*I can tell that!*=_ an angry voice spat in his head. _=*You should have him screaming for mercy by now, and he's not even twitching! What are you doing about it?*=_

_He has somehow withdrawn into himself, I think, my lord,_ the priest continued. _I am ashamed to admit my failure, but nothing I can do to his body will wake him. I have tried to retrieve his mind with a spell, but it slips through my grasp like water and I fear this is beyond my powers..._

_=*So you want me to fetch him back myself,*=_ Sharna muttered sulkily. _=*I have to do everything for you, don't I?*=_

_I did __**try**__, my lord, but my abilities are naturally immeasurably inferior to yours,_ the priest said soothingly, flattering his god with the ease of long practice. He'd relaxed slightly; when Sharna started sounding pouty instead of angry, it usually meant that the dangerous moment had passed. _If I am to complete the sacrifice and deliver his soul to you, I must humbly beg your indulgence and assistance._

Sharna didn't bother to answer, but the feeling of his presence vanished from the priest's mind, telling him that the conversation was over. He could feel power gathering around the demon as he stood up, and smiled at his underpriests. "Fetch the stronger knives," he ordered, rubbing sticky blood from his forehead. "Our subject will be back with us soon, and this has delayed us more than enough; the time for delicacy is past."

- - - - - -

A thin wisp of green fog coiled out of nowhere in front of Wufei, and he felt a pang of unease even through his tranced detachment. Nothing was supposed to be here in the dark with him. Nothing **could** be here with him once he'd withdrawn from his body, wasn't that what Master O had told him...?

The tinge of negative emotion made the dark warmth around him waver, threatening to break the trance, and Wufei automatically let it slide from his mind, sinking deeper into nothingness. Nobody had come to get him, so he was supposed to stay where he was. Stay in the warm dark until someone he trusted called... _Duo came to get me last time,_ he remembered fuzzily, and would have smiled if he'd retained awareness of his mouth. _Duo came and called me. Maybe he'll call me again?_

The fog-wisp shifted, curling towards him, and he regarded it with a mental frown. _I'm pretty sure that's nothing to do with Duo..._

Searing pain shot through him as it touched him, shattering the trance state as if he'd never achieved it, and he found himself staring up at the glowing stone scorpion with his own scream echoing in his ears.

"Welcome back," the priest crooned, tracing the knife in his hand across the ragged slash across Wufei's chest, smile widening as he gasped and shuddered. "Yessss, it's not easy to maintain composure if you think the pain's over and then it starts again, is it? A technique I've used to advantage in the past, and you did it to yourself, oh dear... and things are about to get a little more serious."

"Go to hell!" Wufei choked out, trying to regain control over his muscles. _I will __**not**__ struggle helplessly, damn it, I will __**not**__ scream again- I refuse to give this bastard the satisfaction!_

"Not until I die, dear boy, and as long as I make myself... useful... to my lord Sharna, he'll see to it that I live a long and healthy life."

The Chinese teen managed a laugh and a twisted grin. "Oh? The priest I killed was being 'useful', but he didn't look very healthy by the time I left. Sharna didn't do a damn thing for him, so why do you think he'll bother lifting a finger for you?"

"Because your death and sacrifice could be a greater triumph than any of his priests have managed since the Fall of Kontovar," the priest told him smugly, and drove the short-bladed knife straight through the palm of his right hand.

- - - - - -

Vaijon flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to open them and keep watching. _I can't turn away from courage like that,_ he told himself, feeling sick. _I can't refuse to bear witness to it, even if I know I'll never be able to tell anyone what I've seen._

I can't refuse to watch him prove I was so _**wrong**__ about him..._

- - - - - -

Wufei tasted blood and realised that he'd bitten through his lip in his efforts to keep quiet. He jerked involuntarily at the increased pain as the priest twisted the knife before pulling it back out, but managed to stay silent except for harsh, ragged breathing. _And that's all he's getting,_ he promised himself grimly, glaring up at the ceiling. _If I can push myself back into trance, and go deeper this time - so deep that nothing can reach me, not a friendly voice, not Sharna, __**nothing**__-_

I'll die. I'll die without ever waking up.

Somehow, now that he'd made that decision, he was calm again.

_If I can manage it, they won't get what they want. That priest won't get any more power, Sharna won't get whatever __**he**__ gets out of a sacrifice... well, he may still get the satisfaction of having had his brother's chosen Champion killed, but at least it'll be a flawed triumph. Besides, I have the feeling Krashnark will make him regret it soon enough._

Heh. I'm depending on my annoying stalker to avenge me. How stupidly ironic!

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the darkness behind his eyelids, trying to dismiss the pain and the sound of chanting from his awareness. It was harder than before, but he'd proven in the past that he could achieve trance despite drugs and torture, and this time the drugs weren't a factor-

A faint green smudge curled into view, and the sense of Sharna's presence intensified. _=*But I am,*=_ came the vicious thought. _=*You aren't going anywhere. I pulled you out of there once and I can keep you from going back! You're mine now, and nothing is going to prevent me from taking your soul!*=_

My _**what**__?!_ Wufei thought incredulously, shocked out of focus. _I've made no bargains with you, I'm not one of your servants- you have no right to take __**anything**__!_

=*You're in _**my**__ temple, on __**my**__ altar, being cut to shreds by __**my**__ priest, and that gives me all the rights I need,*=_ Sharna gloated, green smudge brightening and starting to expand, throwing out tendrils of sickly light. _=*I hold you here, he kills you... and I win.*=_

Over my dead body, Wufei told him, and the priest paused uncertainly in his work as his victim's mouth twisted up into a wry smile. _Literally._

It's a pity I'm not going to survive this, he thought privately as he 'turned' to escape into the depths of his own mind, pursued by threads of Sharna's energy. _I __**really**__ want a long talk with Uthmar about the way this world's gods conduct themselves!_

Pain burned through him as one of the tendrils reached him, but he was ready for it this time, pushing it away along with the physical pain. _Illusion,_ he told himself firmly, falling deeper into himself. _Pain is part of the world, and the world is illusion, and illusion has no place here. The only reality is my mind, alone in darkness..._

=*Get back here!*= Sharna screamed, flinging more tendrils after him.

_No pain. There can be no pain... pain needs a body, and my body is illusion, and illusion has no place here..._ The thought trailed off as Wufei cleared his mind completely, sinking deeper.

Changing tactics, Sharna spun the threads out in front of Wufei's bodiless point of view and tangled them into a net, trying to draw him back into consciousness instead of shocking him awake. _=*I'm not letting you go!*=_ he snarled, starting to panic. If he killed Krashnark's human and **didn't** get the extra power this bright soul would give him, he could depend on something very nasty happening to him as soon as Phrobus lost interest in protecting him - and though he might think otherwise in his more optimistic moments, deep down he knew that his father favoured his older brother. Had always favoured him. Would always favour him. And therefore had very little interest in protecting Sharna at the best of times...

A mind, unlike a body, has no inherent size or shape. A point of view would be a literal point if the person concerned didn't have a strong mental image of their own body to provide a form. Wufei, falling deeper into trance, wasn't just forgetting his body; he was actively rejecting it.

_...illusion..._

'Seeing' him start to slide through the net, Sharna panicked for real... and **yanked**.

For an instant, Wufei's disembodied mind was almost crushed between two magics, the chain-spell keeping him isolated within his body and the improvised web hauling him up out of trance, before something gave and he felt himself spin free. Instead of the quiet, dark peace he'd expected, there was a sudden crashing flood of sensation, light and sound and a strange sort of pressure coming from concentrations of energy, disorienting him; then he steadied, bobbing like a tethered balloon, and found himself looking down at his own blank face from about three feet up.

If he'd had a throat to do it with, he would have swallowed. _He pulled me all the way out?! Well... __**that**__ didn't go as either of us planned!_

He could see himself- his **mental** self, he supposed was an appropriate term, lifting translucent hands that glowed greenish-white and looking wonderingly at them. Sharna's nauseating energy was everywhere, too, a darker, uglier green than he was; a faint lattice woven through the walls of the chamber, a solid mass seething around the stone image looming over the altar, fading tangled strands falling away from his disembodied self, and a stronger concentration spreading from the chain around his neck to surround his body, looking like matted cobwebs with a ragged hole torn in them. The 'tethered balloon' thought had been surprisingly apt, because his floating self was tethered to his body by a thin silver tendril, threaded through the hole in the cobweb-spell... which was closing up as he watched. He had barely a second to realise and feel uneasy before it sealed itself, pinching off the shining tendril and setting him adrift.

_I see,_ he thought numbly, watching the drifting tendril as it shrank, seeming to evaporate. _The spell was designed to cut me off from any links between myself and things outside my body... so it did. I might have been able to get back into my body if I'd tried before the hole sealed, but now..._

Somebody leaned into his field of vision, peering closely into his body's face, and he recognised the priest, looking seriously agitated. He couldn't help feeling a tinge of satisfaction at that. _Ha. That's ruffled his composure, finally... hm. I seem to have achieved my aim, even if this isn't quite the way I was trying to do it!_

He bobbed higher and turned slightly, moving so that he could see more of the chamber. _The soldiers don't look happy, either- there's Vaijon! And the others! They weren't killed!_

The sight of Karthan brought the subject of his lost links to the dwarf and Nataku back to the forefront of his mind. _If I could just talk to him again... were the links destroyed, or just temporarily blocked? Can I re-establish them?_

A faint tugging feeling made him focus his attention back onto himself, and he raised an insubstantial eyebrow as three hair-fine threads spun out of his glowing self. _It seems the desire is the act, in this state- wait. Three?_ Frowning, he watched one of the threads drift tentatively towards Karthan, while the other two stretched out towards one of the walls, looping and tangling around each other. _I presume Nataku is in that direction,_ he thought, puzzled, _but why two threads?_

His musing was cut short as the first thread reached Karthan and immediately snapped taut, thickening. _-fei! Wufei! Please, damn it, hear me, can you hear, are you still-_

Karthan! Are you all right? I-

Wufei?! A momentary rush of emotion, relief and joy and hope and fear all jumbled together, and then it was as if Karthan had bundled five minutes' worth of explanation into a single mass and thrown it at him.

_-use the link lend me your power I've borrowed your healing in the past I should be able to borrow your strength! I can borrow strength break free do something at least distract them buy time-_

-and everything blurred as the link pulled tighter and snapped him into Karthan's body.

- - - - - -

_Curse them, why did they have to stand up again?_ Vaijon fretted, craning his neck and stretching up on tiptoe. _I can't __**see**__, damn it! Sir Wufei stopped moving again and now they're all panicking but I can't tell __**why**__-_

Karthan jerked violently next to him, rattling the chains binding him to the wall, and there was a faint crackling sound, like a pinecone thrown into a fire. Vaijon glanced down, opening his mouth automatically to ask if something was wrong, and then flinched back as the dwarf shuddered, jittering lines of white energy crawling over his skin.

"...Did it work?" he whispered after a tense pause, when nothing more seemed to be happening. "Are you borrowing his strength?" _Can you get us __**out**__ of this?_

The dwarf looked up at him, breathing heavily, and Vaijon gulped as he saw the same greenish-white fire burning in his eyes that he'd seen in the demon's. He seemed dazed, blinking, but recovered quickly and smirked.

"Karthan didn't borrow my strength," he said quietly, voice not sounding quite right. "He borrowed **me**."

* * * * *

"Well, I know this is going to sound kind of flaky... but what about Lady Une?"

Everyone else in the room stared at Duo, and he almost snickered out loud at their wide-eyed looks of blank incomprehension. _Goldfish,_ he decided, _that's what they look like. Really surprised goldfish!_

After a couple of breaths, Quatre recovered his composure and cleared his throat. "Duo... she's one of the bad guys!"

"Technically, no," Duo argued seriously. "She just wasn't on our side. Look, OZ sucked, I'm not going to argue about that, but the fact is that Kushrenada had perfectly good motives. He wanted system-wide peace, and we can sure as hell agree with that; it was his methods that we were arguing with."

"Turning the colonies into heavily-guarded prison states was a bad idea, yes," Trowa muttered dryly.

"My **point** is," the braided teen continued doggedly, "everything Une did, she did for Treize. Yes, she was so wound up in the idea of getting results for him that she went over even his limits fairly often, but I think that was usually when he hadn't made the limits clear. So... he wanted system-wide peace. This new organisation is going to be working for system-wide peace, and you bet it's going to have clearly defined limits! If we presented this to her as 'what Kushrenada would have wanted', I bet she'd jump at the chance to continue his dream, and we'll never find anyone else who'll be so determined to succeed-"

A slight pause and minute widening of Duo's eyes were the only warning the others had that something was wrong before he screamed and curled forwards into a ball, wrapping his arms around his chest. The scream trailed off into a pained whimper, and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

Heero grabbed his boyfriend into his arms. "Duo! What's wrong?!" He only vaguely noticed Quatre slumping forwards in his chair, fist clenched over his heart, before Duo's body jerked and his right hand spasmed, hitting the Japanese teen in the jaw.

"...no, 'Fei, no, 'Fei, no, 'Fei..." Duo chanted breathlessly, eyes glazed and unseeing.

"Heero! What's wrong with him?" Relena asked anxiously, scattering folders over the floor as she scrambled out of her chair and moved to Duo's other side. "Should I get the doctor?"

"Hurts," Quatre gasped, pressing his face into Trowa's chest as the taller boy supported him. "Pain... not Duo's... Make it stop... **Wufei**?!"

Suddenly, Duo calmed and relaxed, eyes fluttering closed as he gasped for breath. Heero carefully pulled him out of his tight curl, hands searching for any physical sign of what had happened but finding nothing except a few muscle tremors and a fast heartbeat, slowing down now.

"Duo?" he asked shakily, cupping Duo's cheek gently. "What happened? Are you all right?"

The braided boy's eyes opened slightly and he raised his hand to Heero's face, returning the caress before letting it fall back to the bed. "S'okay..." he whispered to his stunned boyfriend, lying limp and apparently exhausted. "Somethin' hurt 'Fei real bad, but it went away... an' he didn't. I could still feel him for just a second after the pain stopped, an' he felt better. 'Fei's gonna be okay..." His eyes closed again, and his breathing slowed and deepened.

Heero frowned, watching Duo until he was sure he really had fallen asleep, then turned to look at the other people in the room. Relena looked thoroughly lost. Quatre had straightened and was rubbing his chest, relief and confusion clear on his face. A concerned Trowa hovered over his lover, hands lightly stroking down his upper arms in reassurance.

"Heero," Relena asked softly, touching his arm, "what just happened? I thought..."

"Yes, Heero, what **did** happen?" Quatre snapped, blue eyes locked on Duo's recumbent form.

Heero sighed. "I'm not exactly sure," he replied, brushing Duo's hair off of his face. "Duo had a dream last night..."

He was interrupted as the door flew open and Dr. Modi and two nurses rushed in.

"What has happened? We heard a scream!" the doctor exclaimed, rushing to the bedside.

Heero shook his head, trying desperately to think of some sort of convincing explanation, fast. _I certainly can't tell him that Duo is either hallucinating or receiving mental messages from our lost friend!_ He opened his mouth, not really sure what was going to come out, but was saved from having to answer as Relena spoke up.

"Duo had a nightmare, doctor. We were talking, and I suppose he dozed off. It's probably from all of the stress he's been under lately... the accident, the surgery... He really isn't comfortable in medical environments, you know," she said with just the right mix of concern and calm, smiling at the older man.

"Hmmm..." the doctor replied, checking Duo's pulse and peering closely into his now-peaceful face. "That is understandable, yes. His pulse is good, there's no fever..." He turned to Heero. "If young Mr. Maxwell has any problem sleeping because of further nightmares, let the duty nurse know, Mr. Yui. I'll leave orders on his chart for a mild sleeping aid to be administered on request, just in case."

With a nod, he ushered the nurses out the door, closing it behind himself as he left.

Heero sighed and flashed Relena a small, thankful smile. Relena smiled back, then repeated the question Heero was hoping no one would return to.

"Okay, Heero. What the **hell** just happened?!"

Heero ran a hand through his messy hair. "Duo thinks Wufei is alive in some sort of alternate dimension, and that they were in contact last night as he dreamed." He turned slightly to glare at Quatre, remembering how Duo had reacted to the Arab pilot's earlier stubborn insistence that Wufei had to be dead. "And I believe him."

"Heero, that's... not possible," Relena said, shaking her head. "Alternate dimensions are science fiction! Surely you and Duo don't really..."

"Yes, we do," the Japanese teen said stubbornly. "Space colonies and feasible energy weapons were considered 'science fiction' not all that long ago. According to the doctors, there's one particular theory they accept regarding alternate dimensions. They explained it as being like a pair of trousers with an infinite number of legs. The massive amounts of energy released when that experimental weapon backfired blew a temporary hole in our leg, then pulled Wufei out. According to their theory, he would end up in a similar dimension to the one he left, so he'd be able to survive, and according to **my** theory, if some of that energy stayed with him it might act as a connection back here, making it plausible for him to be able to contact this dimension, and Duo, who he has strong ties to." Heero turned his glare on the blonde girl, daring her to argue.

"But-" she persisted.

"No... it has to be true," Quatre said, awe in his voice. "That **wasn't** Duo's pain! It felt like Wufei."

"'Felt like Wufei'?" Heero asked, blinking at the unexpected support.

"All the people I can feel are different," Quatre explained, still rubbing his chest. "It's easiest to express as flavours, I think. Trowa is like... melon, cool and refreshing. You're like strong peppermint with a metallic undertone. Duo is complicated, bitter chocolate and sweet orange and a little salt. Wufei is **completely** different to him - warm spice and musk - and that's what I was 'feeling' just now. And even though it was strong, it was tenuous, as if very far away or going through a filter."

"Which fits the 'alternate dimension' theory," Trowa put in quietly. Seeing Relena's confused expression, he explained further. "If you think of Duo as a receiver, rebroadcasting the 'signal' from Wufei, it makes sense that it would be dampened. Like the difference between sitting in the front row of the audience at the orchestra, and listening to the same musical piece on a stereo." He shrugged. "It really is the only explanation, unless you want to blame it on both Duo and Quatre hallucinating the same thing at the same time, without the benefit of mind-altering drugs. That seems a lot less likely to me than the Doctors' whole 'Trousers of Time' theory... no matter how confused we were the first time they tried to explain it."

Relena opened and closed her mouth a few times, speechless, then shook her head and threw up her hands in surrender. "All right... I'm outnumbered and out-argued, and... well, I want to believe it too, I suppose! So. We have reason to believe that Chang Wufei is in some alternate dimension, alive and, uh, at least semi-well and probably getting better."

"Well put," Trowa said dryly, going down on one knee to help her pick up her scattered documents.

"It's rather a vague reassurance, but since we're hardly going to get postcards I suppose it will have to do to take that particular load off all our minds," she muttered, sounding a little stressed. "And I really don't think it's a good idea for me to think about this too much until after I've had some time to let it sink in... slowly. So, gentlemen, if you think we can still concentrate, shall we finish hammering out these ideas - **quietly**, without waking Duo? I have to have **something** to present as a middle-ground view in the council session tomorrow..."

* * * * *

_Are you all right?_ Wufei thought urgently, feeling oddly off-balance in the shorter, heavier body. _Karthan? Are you there?!_

...Yes, came the tentative answer, and he closed his- Karthan's- the body's eyes, feeling immensely relieved.

_Gods, I thought I'd knocked you out of your body when I slammed in!_

I think you just knocked me further in, or something, Karthan replied, seemingly regaining his composure. _You know, if you'd asked me yesterday what I thought the possible consequences of our link might be, this would __**not**__ have been one of them. And may I say how very glad I am that you're not dead?_

I very nearly was, popped out before Wufei could smother the thought, and he felt the dwarf's shock as the closeness between their minds let the rest of the information leak over, telling him exactly what Wufei had been about to do to himself. Cursing inwardly, he tried to close off his thoughts, with limited success. He could feel Karthan's solid, warm personality pressed close against his, like Duo's presence next to him in bed on a cold night when the memories bred nightmares and one or both of them needed company, and there was a flicker of surprise and embarrassment as that thought made it across too. Then a sympathetic wince at **his** embarrassment...

_Sorry,_ he thought curtly, angry at himself at this sudden lack of control, breaching his mental privacy. (_-the only sort of privacy there is sometimes in a close-knit clan or a small safehouse and I value mine so much-_) He was uncomfortably aware of the few flickers of emotion and image that were trickling across to him from Karthan's thoughts; there was nothing clear yet but he was sure that would change, and the thought of listening to someone else's private thoughts was almost as bad as having someone else listen to his. _I don't think I can go back to my body, but my link to Nataku is back now. I can go there and use our link to loan you-_

No, Karthan interrupted firmly, nervous but determined. _This is going to need everything you've got, not just brute strength, and I have no idea of how to use your other powers, like that armour and the extending punch._

Neither do I! It just happens! (_-without thinking it feels good somehow but it scares me sometimes-_)

_And what if it __**doesn't**__ 'just happen' for me? Besides which, I'm no better than average at fighting unarmed. If you stay in my body and use it to fight, I think we stand a better chance of survival._ (_-if I fail we die my fault-_) _We can try to keep our thoughts separate, and just... do our best to ignore whatever we can't hold in._ (_-seen some already in dreams - honourable man trust him keep his secrets-_)

_All right,_ Wufei thought back slowly, convinced more by the 'leaked' thoughts than by what Karthan had said intentionally. _I'll try._ (_-didn't happen when we were together in Nataku wonder why-_)

_You've got a point, that is strange. Maybe because we were both still linked to our own bodies? Like having an anchor._

(_-DAMN IT-_)

(_-oh sorry-_)

_Try __**harder**__,_ Wufei requested grimly, and took a firm grip on the chains holding them to the wall.

He'd hoped that one quick yank would break the chains loose from their attachment point, leaving him/them with a short length hanging from each wrist, useful as an improvised weapon until he got his hands on something better; instead, the stone wall cracked and the ringbolt both chains were fastened to pulled out. Keeping one eye on the agitated group at the other end of the chamber, watching for the first signs that what he was doing had been noticed, he frowned as he picked it up, intending to twist the links free - nearly dropped it as the frown felt **strange**, distracting him - caught it again, fumbled as he tried to get the right grip with shorter, wider hands than he was used to, swore mentally-

Karthan's mental laughter brought him up short. _Don't complain! I'd rather have a couple of fumbles getting loose than not be able to get loose at all!_

Wufei grinned sheepishly, and nearly dropped the ringbolt again. _Your beard __**tickles**__ every time I move my- your- every time I change expression!_

Not once you get used to it, it doesn't. (_-hahaha-_)

_I have no intention of staying here long enough to get used to it!_ Taking a deep breath, resisting a hysterical urge to laugh as the damned beard tickled him **again**, he wrenched the ringbolt out of shape and pulled the chains loose. "It's a start," he muttered, and blinked as the voice came out strangely, Karthan's deeper pitch blended with his own quicker, sharper delivery.

"Uh... Karthan?" Jens said tentatively, staring at him wide-eyed. "How did you..."

_Only Vaijon knew what I was planning,_ Karthan informed him quickly. _The others were too far away to reach with a whisper and I didn't want to be overheard-_

Understood. Wufei opened his mouth to explain, realised exactly how odd anything he could say would sound - anything brief, anyway, and he didn't have **time** for anything detailed - and closed it again. "Vaijon, you explain," he muttered, stretching up to reach the manacles on the blond knight-probationer's wrists. "I think I'm going to be busy- Gods damn it, don't I have enough problems with being short at the best of times?!"

_Hey, I'm tall by dwarven standards!_ Karthan shot back. (_-used to get in trouble for growing out of my shirts and now he wishes I'd done it more?-_)

Vaijon coughed, face colouring. "Here," he said, voice trembling with suppressed laughter, and slid down the wall into a crouch, bracing one leg for Wufei/Karthan to use as a step. He grunted slightly as the dwarf's not inconsiderable weight came down on his thigh, but held steady. Jens's explanation was delayed again for him to watch in fascination as Karthan's stubby fingers pried carefully at the thick iron cuffs, slowly bending the edges up far enough for him to get a secure grip and snap the lock without bruising Vaijon's arm. "Torframos," he swore softly, "it's just like watching my father peel the rind off a cheese!"

"Explain, Vaijon, before Jens has a heart attack," Wufei said pointedly, snapping the second lock and hopping down to the ground. "If I do it, it's going to sound like I'm speaking in the third person, and it'll be **very** confusing."

An alarmed shout came from behind Wufei/Karthan, and Vaijon's head snapped up to look, awe and laughter vanishing from his expression. "I'll explain, and find some way to get the others loose," he said, looking down at his burned, useless hand with a frustrated grimace. "You have something else to worry about..."


	29. Chapter 28

"I'll explain, and find some way to get the others loose," Vaijon said, grimacing in frustration as he looked down at his burned hand. _Damn it, __**why**__ did I grab that damned chain with my sword hand?! Never mind the fact that I couldn't have known it would cripple me, I should have known better than to put my weapon down in the middle of a skirmish!_ "You have something else to worry about."

"I noticed," the demon in Karthan's body said grimly, turning to walk towards the approaching cultists. "I could wish they'd taken a few more minutes to notice what was going on! I'll try to keep them occupied and away from you," he added, shooting a quick glance back over his shoulder as colours began to flicker in the air around him, forming into shadowy images. A taller, slender form was visible rising above Karthan's stocky frame for just an instant, dark eyes glittering dangerously before they were hidden behind red and blue armour.

Jens swallowed, eyes widening further. "That was Sir Wufei, wasn't it?" he asked, voice slightly higher-pitched than normal.

_Well, that makes explaining what's going on a lot simpler!_ "Yes, it was," Vaijon confirmed, looking around for something he could use to pry at the manacles' locks. "Karthan's plan ended up being rather more effective than he'd expected..."

- - - - - -

Wufei bounced slightly on his heels and stretched as he strode forwards, trying to quickly accustom himself to the differences between his and Karthan's bodies. _Shorter arms, shorter legs, just generally __**shorter**__,_ he frowned, not trying to send the thought to Karthan but not trying particularly hard to keep it private either. _I won't have the reach I'm used to... though that shouldn't be a factor with a right-handed punch,_ he added, grinning faintly. _He's certainly fit, and seems reasonably flexible for a non-martial artist, but I should still avoid doing any really extreme moves-_

I'd appreciate it, Karthan told him dryly. _I've seen the things you do when you're practicing alone, and I don't even want to __**think**__ about what some of those flips and kicks would do to me! I like my hip joints in their sockets, thank you very much._

I'll start with something simple, then, Wufei said soothingly, well aware that it wasn't convincing. There seemed to be a bubble of gleeful humour welling up in his chest, prodding him to say or do something reckless, and he spared a moment to wonder if that was how Duo felt when he pulled his most outrageous pranks. (_-reaction to sudden relief from pain? anticipation of revenge? whatever, it's fun-_)

_'Simple'?_ Karthan sounded rather suspicious. _What do you mean by 'simple'?_ (_-uh-oh, sounds like Gunnar in one of his moods-_)

Grinning wickedly behind Karthan's beard (_-STILL tickles!-_), Wufei ducked his head and lunged forwards as he reached the first of the approaching cultists, dodging a wild sword strike. A quick swing of his arm wrapped the dangling chain around the man's wrist, and he turned and yanked, sending the soldier flying over his head with flailing limbs and a panicked yell. _That was simple,_ he thought innocently, freeing the chain with a jerk that left the cultist with a dislocated shoulder and wrenched elbow. _No blood, no mess... simple!_

Which makes me wonder why you're feeling so mis-

Wufei dodged another blow, slid smoothly sideways in between two tall men, and jumped straight up, one foot lashing out to kick one of them in the face. The blow wasn't quite as solid as he'd intended (_-damn, didn't judge the changed leg length right-_), but was still sufficient to send his target reeling backwards with at least a broken jaw, and gave him the momentum to flip backwards.

(_-WHOA!-_)

Leaning down to cut at what he **thought** was a low target, the other cultist faltered and looked up as his short opponent shot upwards and tumbled in midair, twisting his neck to keep Wufei/Karthan in sight as he/they flipped over him. One short, muscled arm was suddenly clamped around his head, hand fisted in his hair, and there was a loud cracking noise as Wufei wrenched his head further around on his way to the ground.

_THAT was NOT simple!_

Yes it was! Wufei's grin widened as he felt Karthan's shock. _Simple, and sloppily executed as well. If you want complicated, though..._ His mental 'voice' trailed off as he concentrated on avoiding his next few opponents, crippling two of them with well-placed blows, but a wash of stunned amazement from the dwarf's mind let him know that some indication of what **he** considered 'complicated' had leaked through.

_You're insane. It's the only explanation._ (_-who first found out that one was even __**possible**__? And why did they __**try**__?!-_)

Diving deeper into the crowd of increasingly confused and panicked cultists, Wufei laughed. (_-get in close they can't target us without hitting each other-_) _I'm not insane. Setting my own bones, now that would be insane!_ (_-he'd better treat Duo right or I'll find some way to get to him-_)

_Are all of you 'Gundam riders' crazy, or is it just you and-_

The banter abruptly stopped as they both zeroed in on a splash of colour, elaborate robes and bloodstained embroidery standing out against the duller uniforms. (_-there! the priest!-_)

There was a brief moment of confusion as Wufei realised he didn't know whose thought that had been, but it was swept away by Karthan's alarm. _Get him __**now**__! He's casting some sort of spell!_

- - - - - -

_Serving Sharna may have its good points, but why does my god have to be so damned __**stupid**__?! We're worse off now than when he was calling __**me**__ incompetent!_

Watching the mayhem, the priest clenched his hand around the hilt of his largest knife, squeezing until his arm shook. _Never mind that now. Thinking like that won't do us any good even if he doesn't hear me..._ Calling on a tiny trace of the power he'd managed to take from the small demon, he could see the overlapping souls inside the dwarf's body. _And how did he manage that?! -No, worry about what to __**do**__ about it! Hmm... if I take the chain off the demon's body to use on them, he'll be able to return to it, and we'll be right back where we started if not worse... but I might be able to duplicate the spell in a hurry..._

I'll need more power.

Not a problem. "Hald... assist me!" he ordered, turning back towards the scorpion statue.

"My lord!" the acolyte said eagerly, hurrying over. Even in the middle of a crisis, he took the time to look over his shoulder and smirk at the other acolytes and underpriests, making sure they saw that **he** was the one being picked out for a special duty. "What do you require of me?"

_Smarmy, bootlicking crawler... you've always annoyed me._ "Kneel here," he said, pointing to the spot under the scorpion's claws, "and await instructions. I will be able to cast a spell to defeat that dwarf in a moment, but a second... pair of hands... is needed."

"Yes, my lord!" Hald almost tripped in his haste to reach the indicated spot, adjusting his sleeves fussily and folding his hands into a pose of pious adoration that was slightly spoilt by his expression of smug superiority. The priest could almost see him thinking that this was sure to advance his standing.

_In a way, it will,_ he chuckled to himself, moving to stand behind Hald and starting to murmur a prayer. _My lord Sharna?_

=*Get on with it!*=

Preoccupied with calculations of his own importance, Hald didn't realise exactly **which** prayer he was hearing until the priest yanked his head back and cut his throat.

- - - - - -

_There's a fine line between 'pragmatic' and 'ruthless', and if you ask me I'd say he passed it a __**long**__ time ago,_ Wufei thought coldly, dodging between attackers and catching a glimpse of the acolyte's body crumpled at the priest's feet. _What's he doing?_

Waving bloody hands in the air and chanting, what's it look like?! Karthan shot back, sounding frustrated. _Can't you get to him any faster?!_

I _**meant**__, what's the spell likely to __**do**__?!_ Wufei growled, white energy crackling briefly around his/Karthan's arm as he put a little of his annoyance into a punch and slammed one of the cultists into the wall with a nasty crunching sound. _Do you know of any tactics that would be appropriate here? And I'm working on it!_

You probably have a better chance of working out what he's doing than I do, Karthan admitted. (_-I'm not Uthmar not a Champion not a mage not a demon can't do magic and haven't studied it-_) _Whatever it is, he's aiming it at us and presumably would like to get us from a distance, so it's probably something he can 'throw', and spells are apparently easier to aim than ordinary weapons-_

(_-yes well that chain TURNED to get me so in my terms it's either 'seeking' or 'terminally guided'-_)

_-so the only tactical advice I can offer is 'get him first'._

That's what I thought.

Despite what Karthan might have thought, Wufei had actually been fighting rather conservatively up until then, feeling his way into how best to use Karthan's unfamiliar body. He hadn't tried any moves that were likely to leave him/them too vulnerable if they failed, and hadn't been drawing heavily on the power that came through the link (_-links? there were two wonder why-_) to his Gundam; the strength he'd used to break out of his bonds and fight so far was what he was starting to think of as 'normal', the level of physical power he could use without thinking about it. Now, however, he reached out mentally to Nataku and **pulled**.

* * * * *

"What in Krahana's bloody hells does your father think he's **doing**?!" Terrin asked incredulously, sparing a moment's attention from the battle to wave at the swathe of destruction Cord was carving through the cultists' ranks. Beside him, Naiya grumbled something under her breath and sent another well-aimed shot into the mess.

"What?"

"I said, 'he probably isn't thinking at all right now'," she said disgustedly, reaching for another arrow. "He's given himself to the Rage, and quite frankly I can't think of a stupider time to do it..."

"'Given himself'- what?!"

"Keep shooting! He's gone berserk. It's a hradani thing."

"You usually say that about things like having a rotten sense of humour and no respect for authority, not- not whatever the hell that is!" the hunter sputtered, snapping off a shot almost at random.

"Oh, those are things that all hradani do, so they're **respectable**," Naiya said sarcastically. "This is a **male** hradani thing, and it's about as useful as all the other male-only things in life, like being able to piss standing up, comparing weapon sizes and scratching random areas in public."

"Well maybe it's a male dwarf thing too," Terrin grunted, picking off someone who seemed to be giving one of the armsmen a bit too much trouble. "Uthmar's gone after him..."

Naiya paused for a moment, eyeing the blazing-gold dwarf, and then smiled slightly. "Maybe he is thinking after all... it got one of the Champions fighting seriously, at least! I might even agree it was a good idea - if he makes it out of this alive!"

Whatever he might have been going to say in reply was lost as a low, deep grumbling sound shook the ground, making the cart they were standing on top of tremble.

"What was that?!" he yelped, wobbling off-balance for a moment.

"Nataku," Naiya said triumphantly, pointing to where the giant figure sat, still motionless but with its eyes glowing greenish-white. "That's got to be a good sign!"

* * * * *

White fire burned through Karthan, mind as well as body, and he would have gasped in shock if he'd still been in charge of his lungs. _This is nothing like that time I was in Nataku! Is this what Wufei feels every time he draws on the power? It seems like you could do __**anything**__ with this, shatter a mountain or break the world- no wonder he's frightened by it sometimes-_

The shadowy armour around him/them was abruptly clearer, easier to see, and several of the attacking men recoiled in horror as crackling white energy crawled over its surface, outlining its planes and joints and leaving it seeming almost solid.

_It __**is**__ solid!_ Karthan realised, watching from behind his own eyes as Wufei swatted a thrown axe out of the air, sending it spinning out of sight without ever touching it with his/their hand. _Or - no, the chains are swinging through it, so - Well it seems as though if Wufei wants it to act as if it's solid, everything else goes along with the idea..._

He couldn't tell whether any of his thoughts were 'leaking' through to Wufei or not, but if the black-eyed human/demon was distracted it didn't show. Cultists dodged or fell or were smashed out of the way as he turned and lunged, sprinting to reach the priest before he could complete whatever spell he was casting, and Uthmar could see the strain on the robed man's face as he raised one hand in a blocking gesture and Wufei's fist rose for a strike-

-and slammed against an invisible barrier, feet away from the altar and the priest standing behind it.

For just a moment, there was near-silence as they stared at each other; then the man's face relaxed, near-panicked expression sliding away to be replaced with a triumphant smirk. "I hate to- _*ahem*_ I hate to disappoint you," he began, clearing his throat to bring his voice back to its normal smooth, amused tones, "especially after you've tried **so** hard to kill me, but that should hold you long enough for me to complete-"

The frail mental barrier keeping their minds at least partially separated finally collapsed, overloaded by the sheer volume of energy flowing through them, and a flood of Wufei's thoughts and memories poured into Karthan. Reeling under the onslaught, he could somehow tell that the memories he 'saw' weren't even ones that Wufei was reliving at the moment; they were simply fragments thrown up out of the torrent, images that somehow matched or complemented what was happening right then. In a hundred bright shards of emotion/vision/touch, Wufei took aim at a target with Nataku's dragon-arm, and flicked a toggle on his right-hand controller-

-the half-visible armour around his raised right arm sparked with energy and **shifted**, lengthening and arching like an angry snake about to strike as a fanged head formed around the hand/gauntlet-

-and a hundred memories blazed with liquid fire as white lightning struck from the shadowy Dragon Fang, crashing through the priest's barrier and burning him to bones and charcoal.

* * * * *

Sharna shrieked in fury as his priest died, clawing hands raking impotently through the shimmering image of Karthan/Wufei hanging in front of him. "Curse you, you bastard mortal, I'll- I'll get a **new** priest-Champion, one that can do the job properly! To hell with your energy, I just want you **dead**-"

Fumbling in his haste, he widened the focus of the scrying window, flicking his gaze over the panicked cultists. "No- no- not him either- no- damn them, don't any of them **match** me?! No- no- ah!" Grinning, he narrowed the window and centred it on one of the scrambling acolytes, not caring that by doing so he lost sight of his other target completely. A faint, faltering spark of sickly green bobbed within the muddy blue of the human's soul, and Sharna hesitated for a second. _Not strong enough, really. He won't last... hells with it, I don't need him to last more than a moment! Claim him, take control, and __**fry**__ that upstart mortal demon, that's all I need to do!_

Concentrating his energy, he focussed on the green flicker, pouring power and will into it. _=*MINE!*=_ he sent, demanding, not caring that he could already feel the man's mind breaking around him. _=*BE MINE! And kill him for me!*=_

A thin scream came from the man's throat, eyes and mouth stretching painfully wide as he spun, one arm flying out to throw an uncontrolled blast. Light flared around his hand, and Sharna leaned forward eagerly, starting to widen the window so he could see Wufei's death-

-and a semi-substantial dragon's head flashed into view, metallic jaws closing over the new 'priest' and crushing the life out of him before he could complete the strike.

"NO!" Almost incoherent, beginning to panic again, Sharna wrenched the window's point of view around again, searching desperately for another spark, someone else he could act through before all his cultists were killed or fled out of range.

"That's enough," Krashnark's voice said from behind him, cold anger making it deeper than his usual low tenor. "That is **more** than enough... little brother."

A faint, strangled noise escaped Sharna's throat as he spun around and backed straight through the collapsing scrying window, automatically pressing back against the wall. "Wh-what are **you** doing here?!" he asked shakily, trying to sound confident and failing miserably. "G-get out! You had your chance to make him yours and he turned you down, h-he's fair game now and I have a **right** to destroy him for what he did!"

"That's not what our lord father said," his twin said, advancing. "He told you you could send one demon after him, and then you were to leave him to me. He said nothing about giving you a second chance at killing him later. And, more importantly... that's not what **I** said. Do you remember what I said... **little** brother?"

"Don't call me that!"

"'Chang Wufei is **my** meat'," Krashnark quoted softly, ignoring Sharna's outburst and pacing forwards until the two gods were standing almost nose-to-nose. Like that, the resemblance- and difference- between them was obvious: identical features, same hair, same height even... but their expressions and stances were completely different. One standing straight, face hard and angry; one cowering back, trembling, hatred and terror easy to read in his expression.

"Do you remember the rest of what I said, Sharna?" Krashnark almost whispered, leaning forward and lifting one hand to gather a fistful of his brother's tunic, almost gently. "You should, since I had my hand around your neck at the time and it seemed to make quite an impression on you, but perhaps I should remind you. I said, 'You can forget about your revenge. It's **not**... **going**... to **happen**'!" he snarled, voice rising with each emphasised word as he pulled Sharna forward and slammed the screaming godling backwards into the wall. "HAVE- I- MADE- MY- SELF- CLEAR- THIS- TIME?!"

The last blow shattered the wall, chunks of rubble dissolving into mist as they fell, and Krashnark let go of his brother, kicking him through the hole into the unshaped area between the Dark gods' private territories. Sobbing, Sharna scrabbled desperately away on hands and knees, half-formed items congealing out of the mist around him, spawned by the strength of his terror. A contemptuous sneer twisted Krashnark's face as he followed, crushing warped weapons and instruments of torture under his boots.

_Typical._

"It was about then that I told you what would happen if you took an active part against him again," he went on, voice back to an almost conversational level as he kicked out once more, sending Sharna tumbling. "I hope you remember **that** part, at least. I'd hate to be trying to kill you without you understanding why." Pausing for a moment, head cocked to one side, he considered that sentence and then shook his head. "No. No, on second thought, I think I'd like trying to kill you under **any** circumstances, really. Shall we find out if I'm allowed?"

Scrambling to his feet, Sharna began to run towards one of the other constructions looming in the distance, the low, spiky-looking one that he recognised as his sister Krahana's home. _She might- she might protect me- she's not very strong but she's very good at blocking us out when she wants to be alone, she can stop him if-_

Stone tentacles rose out of the mist in front of him, curling around him and closing fast before he could backpedal or dodge. Hammering at them with hysterical strength and all the power he could call up, he screamed again in renewed terror as the newly-formed stone, ignoring his attacks and showing no damage, just curled around his hands and began to crush them. "How are you **doing** this?!" he wailed, twisting around to see Krashnark strolling calmly towards him. "You've got hardly any energy left, I watched you use it all- you shouldn't be able to do anything apart from just **hitting** me!"

"Oh, doing this doesn't take energy, Sharna," Krashnark said with satisfaction. "It just takes willpower. Something that you've **never** had more of than me."

_It's a start,_ he thought with a certain amount of dark satisfaction, watching Sharna struggle helplessly. _A start on what you owe me, to pay for whatever you've put my Wufei through. I'll collect the rest after those Light champions get him out of your temple, out where I can __**see**__ him, and I can find out exactly what's happened to him... though, judging by what little I saw before your window collapsed, he's doing quite well by himself._

* * * * *

Head throbbing, Karthan/Wufei collapsed to his/their knees, barely aware that the last surviving cultists were scrambling desperately out the door. The shadowy armour around him/them flickered and warped, temporarily reshaping itself into something less like Nataku and more like a **real** dragon, before a desperate mental effort wrenched it back into what part of him/them insisted was the proper shape and then banished it. Dazed and searching for something stable, a memory that could be reliably identified as more 'his' than the rest, that part of him/them wondered briefly if such a thing as a 'real' dragon did actually exist-

(_-I've seen one - they're only old stories - faced it down with my axe and - river dwelling, guardians of clouds - two armsmen at my back - king lives at the bottom of the ocean - remember the look in its eyes - emblem of my clan and - that was no animal's expression, it - I've always been proud to call myself a Dragon, but - was __**thinking**__ about whether it could - they don't exist in my world - take us down and decided - I can't be remembering - we weren't worth the trouble - this, it's not my memory!-_)

"Stay **back**, you id- sir! There's no way to tell what's happening to him!"

The urgent, hissed voice cut through the swirling confusion, and he/they looked up into Sir Vaijon's worried face. "Sir- sirs?" he said uncertainly, reaching out with his good hand as if he wanted to support them but wasn't sure whether they were safe to touch. "Are you- both- all right?"

"No," he/they choked out together, closing his/their eyes as the blond knight-probationer seemed simultaneously too tall and precisely in proportion to him/them. "We- I- he can't- too **close**-"

The sleeve of his/their shirt pulled oddly as he/they brought a hand up to rub at his/their face, and he/they opened his/their eyes again to blink perplexedly at it. The laced cuff that should have been snug around his/their wrist seemed slightly too large, somehow, and had slid back up his/their forearm, baring a couple of inches of skin that should have been hidden, but the sleeve was still pulled tight from the shoulder-

Part of him/them blinked uncomprehendingly at that, but another part froze in horror, realising what it meant, and that difference in reaction gave him/them the momentary separation he/they needed to pull apart again, becoming separate minds instead of the blended Wufei/Karthan. With a wrench, Wufei took control of their shared body again, gasping out what he had to say as quickly as possible.

"I have to get out of here," he said urgently, head snapping up to look at Vaijon once more. Karthan's beard tickled again, and he seized on the sensation, using it to remind him of the differences. _**His**__ body, not mine - I mustn't get used to it, mustn't get comfortable again!_ "Out of **him**. Our minds are running together, we- I- we can't stay separate, and I think the energy I used is starting to change his body to be more like mine-"

Vaijon's blue eyes widened, almost comically. "Ah. Yes. A serious problem. Can you get back into your own body?"

"No. Still blocked," Wufei gritted out, head swimming as Karthan's sudden realisation/shock/semi-hysterical humour hit him. (_-you mean now I'm __**really**__ tall for a dwarf?! Torframos save us, for once the Almerhas of Almerhas has grasped a situation immediately and Gunnar isn't here to see it-_) "Don't have **time** for you to find a safe way to get that thing off me. Have to-"

"You can't just, ah, hover around bodiless, the Gods only know what would happen if you tried that! Can you, ahhhh, can you go to somebody else? Perhaps if you were in a human, there would be less problems because the body would be slightly more similar-" Vaijon swallowed, hard. "Can you, ah, possess **me**?"

"Can't. No link... and the more similar the more dangerous, I think..." He swayed dizzily, sliding perilously close to becoming 'them' again, before he dragged his attention back on target and focussed grimly on staying 'him'. "I'll go to Nataku. I think..." Greenish fire flickered in his eyes for a moment, and then was gone. "I think they need help up there, anyway. I'll block the entrance before I go, stop the remaining Sharna-worshippers from coming back... get you out a different way... do you still need help with the chains?" he asked fuzzily, trying to plan with a mind that seemed to be full of echoing thoughts, his own and Karthan's, back and forth and blending and... _No!_

(_-I'm a __**dwarf**__,-_) came Karthan's thought, struggling just as hard as him to stay separate. (_-I grew up in Dwarvenhame, in the city of Mountain Heart, under White Horn Mountain, not in a metal box floating in nothingness! I am __**not him**__!-_)

_Not just a box,_ Wufei thought back, a little wistfully. _It had its own sun, and trees, and even fields of flowers... Meiran's flowers..._ (_-that's __**my**__ memory, me, Chang Wufei! I am __**not him**__!-_)

"-managed to get one of Jens's hands loose," Vaijon was reassuring him when he managed to focus again, "and he turned out to be far better at picking locks than myself, so-"

"Not to mention that I remembered which of those bastards had pocketed the keys after the dog brother who chained us up handed them over," Jens put in over his shoulder, "and he was one of the ones you did in during the fight... uh, m'lord Wufei?" he finished tentatively, obviously not sure who he was addressing.

"Good," Wufei managed to say, fighting off a flood of Karthan's memories triggered by the sight of the tall armsman's face. _I don't __**want**__ to know that he has three children, I __**shouldn't**__ know, that's not __**mine**__-_ "Get everyone clear of the door," he gasped, lifting his right hand and swinging it towards the entranceway, Nataku's image flickering back into view around him. "I have to go **now**!"

The Dragon Fang shot out the instant all the armsmen were clear, warping partway into something with scales that bit viciously at the rock above the tunnel entrance, ripping at it until it collapsed and sealed them in. It coiled back rather than folding, shadowy image settling in loops around the kneeling dwarf, and white sparks crackled over its surface as it melted into a new shape, briefly becoming Nataku, then Wufei, before it disappeared.

_Now how do we get you out of my head?_ Karthan thought, sounding slightly tired and definitely stressed. _I don't have any idea how I got you __**in**__!_

Push, Wufei suggested dryly. _While I pull on my link to Nataku again, just... differently._

(_-how wonderfully specific-_) _Let's get to it then. I like you, Wufei, but I don't want to __**look**__ like you!_

* * * * *

"This was such a **brilliant** idea!" Uthmar yelled at Cord, not caring that he obviously wasn't listening. "Absolutely wonderful! What **will** you come up with next, swimming in full plate armour?! Taking on a cavalry charge naked, perhaps?!"

The huge hradani ignored him, furry ears lying flat against his head as he snarled and hacked down another cultist, and the dwarf Champion swore under his breath. _Damned stupid thing to do, charging into the middle of them like that! I had to call on Torframos's power just to stay alive long enough to protect his back, and now we're cut off- not to mention that he probably wouldn't go back to rejoin the others even if we __**had**__ a clear path to them-_

=*Something's happening,*= Torframos interrupted his thoughts suddenly.

_-eh? What is it?_ Eyes narrowing, Uthmar scanned the battlefield, looking for anything out of the ordinary. _Not that much is really out of the ordinary for such a confused mess of a fight, that is... Has one of Sharna's priests turned up, or- don't tell me we're going to get hit with another demon!_

=*No, that's not it,*= Torframos said tensely, and Uthmar could feel him looking through his eyes for a different perspective. _=*It's not Sharna's power I'm feeling, but I can't tell exactly what- Oh. Of __**course**__.*=_ There was a half-amused, half-exasperated laugh. _=*I should have remembered. If something's going on, and I can't tell what... Wufei's up to something.*=_

Wufei! He's all right?! The dwarf dodged sideways, tripping a cultist charging at Cord's back and killing him without really paying attention, attention fixed elsewhere. _Where's he been?! I felt __**something**__ wrong, just before we were attacked, but I couldn't pin it down and I haven't exactly had time since to check-_

Torframos cut him off again. _=*Maybe you should have made time,*=_ he said slowly, voice distant as he concentrated. _=*Something's still wrong...*=_

* * * * *

Karthan could feel Wufei straining against the link holding their minds together, pulling harder on his link to Nataku, and felt his own body grit its teeth in response, then a wave of frustration from Wufei's mind.

(_-No, that won't work - I have to separate myself from his body, not keep controlling it! This isn't a physical effort, anyway, it shouldn't need a physical response-_)

Whether it needed a physical response or not, it was getting one. Karthan was crouched on hands and knees, muscles twitching and jerking as the white energy leaked over into him from the link again, and he could feel his pulse hammering as if his heart was trying to break out of his chest.

(_-Not good. Not good at __**all**__! At this rate he's going to have a heart attack, and-_)

_If you keep worrying about me,_ Karthan thought at him, _we'll be stuck together for good. Stop thinking about me! Think about Nataku- think about how it felt when you were fighting that demon! Concentrate on getting into Nataku instead of on getting out of my head, and we might actually get somewhere!_

...all right. I'll try again.

- - - - - -

Watching Karthan anxiously, Vaijon didn't realise he was holding his breath until his chest started to hurt. Nobody spoke, nobody was moving... they were all watching the dwarf crouched in the middle of the floor, shuddering. It had been nearly two minutes since he had blocked the doorway - no, **Wufei** had blocked it, Vaijon corrected himself - and the lack of visible progress was starting to worry the blond knight-probationer.

Jens stirred finally, shifting his weight as if he was going to step forwards, then flinched away as a few sparks crackled down Karthan's arm. "I don't mind tellin' you, I don't like the look of that," he said uneasily. "...Sir. It looks like they need help, but damned if I know how to help 'em!"

"Wish we had one'a the Champions with us," a dwarf grumbled, and the other armsmen muttered agreement. "They'd know something to do."

"If we had a Champion with us, we probably wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Vaijon snapped back, hiding a wince at the unintentional reminder that he **wasn't** one. _Why not me?!_ came the familiar, hurt thought, but this time he pushed it away impatiently. "And since this is most certainly not a situation that's happened before, I doubt they'd be any more prepared to handle it than we are!" Straightening up, he glanced around, and frowned as he realised that his initial impression had been correct; **all** of them were gathered around, watching Karthan.

_Of all the foolish, thoughtless- no, the fault is mine,_ he corrected himself, stiffening his spine. _As a nobleman, and the only officer of the Order present, it is my responsibility to see to the proper disposition of forces. I can't expect peasants to feel the same sense of responsibility..._ "We may not be able to help directly, but that is no excuse for standing around! We need to arm ourselves and guard the entrance, in case the cultists attempt to clear a path and re-enter. We should also do something for Sir Wufei's body!" he added, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. _I can't believe I forgot __**that**__!_ "If he does not succeed in going to Nataku, perhaps we can help by clearing the path for him to return to his own self, but he can hardly do so if we allow his body to die for lack of attention! -And **don't** touch that chain with your bare hands!"

"Got it... sir," Jens nodded, shooting a quick glance at Vaijon's seared right hand. "We'll see to it." He turned away, waving the other armsmen to him as he began to assign tasks, but not before the knight-probationer caught a faint mutter. "Looks like the flagpole's back, stuck in there right an' proper. Pity, really..."

Vaijon's opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reprimand-

-and a sudden explosion of white light sent the armsmen scurrying in all directions, scrambling desperately away from the sizzling arc stretching from Karthan to - and **through** - the cavern wall. Vaijon fell backwards onto his rear, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes, and squinted through his lashes at the glare. He couldn't tell whether it was just an illusion caused by the dazzle making his eyes tear up, but it looked like something was pulling itself out of the dwarf's torso...

A narrow, fanged head swung out and clamped its jaws onto the arc of energy as if it were a rope, and Vaijon could see translucent, scaled hide bulge and shift as the muscles underneath it tensed, straining to drag the rest of its body free. It uncoiled from around Karthan's torso as it pulled itself loose, seeming to rip through his skin and clothes but leaving them unharmed, and Vaijon gaped in mingled horror and amazement as one long talon struck out, clawing grooves into the stone floor as it added its strength to the effort.

_Dear gods - is this what Wufei really looks like?!_

The long, snakelike body finally finished uncoiling, plumed tailtip flicking out from between Karthan's shoulderblades, and the white energy outlining the glassily see-through creature subsided slightly, light dimming. Vaijon blinked his eyes clear, lowering his arm, and just had time to see that the line running through the wall was now linked to the creature, with a second, thinner arc of energy linking it to Karthan, before the monster coiled in on itself, outlines blurring, and resolidified... into Wufei, floating a few inches above the floor, right hand clamped on the thicker light-arc as if it was a lifeline.

"Told you... you just had to concentrate... on the right thing," Karthan gasped out, finishing with a shaky laugh as he twisted his neck to look up at the insubstantial demon. "Your ancestors chose the right symbol... or maybe they knew something you don't... huh? I wasn't even looking at you... and I **still** saw that!"

Wufei grimaced, expression a mixture of exasperation and relief, and seemed to say something; Karthan snorted and shook his head, letting himself slump to the floor.

"Get your glowing arse into Nataku... before something else goes wrong," he said acidly, rolling onto his back and going limp, closing his eyes. "I'll be fine."

The small demon's spirit looked unconvinced, but nodded. Drifting slightly away from the sprawled dwarf, he glanced over at Vaijon for a second, burning eyes sending an unmistakeable message. _'Look after him.'_ The knight-probationer swallowed, nodding back, somehow certain that although there was no implied 'or else' threatened in that look, there would be serious consequences in store if he failed at this task. He hid a relieved sigh as Wufei nodded back, apparently satisfied, and turned towards the wall, tightening his grip on the brighter cord of light. A careful tug sent him drifting again, sliding smoothly away and slightly upwards... and then he shot forwards, form starting to shift into the long snaky beast again as he dove head-first into the wall and vanished. The thinner light-cord running into Karthan sparked a few times, then abruptly faded, dwindling into a sparkling silver thread before it vanished.

Jens broke the stunned silence following his departure, clearing his throat a few times. "Well. I dunno 'bout you lads, but Sir Wufei didn't need t' go through all that for my benefit; I was already impressed."

Karthan wheezed out another tired laugh. "You should have seen it from here..."

"Rather not," muttered the same dwarven armsman who'd expressed a wish for a Champion's presence, coming forwards to scuff one toe carefully at the seared claw-marks in the floor. "That white lightning-magic looked like it hurts."

"Oh, no," Karthan said softly, opening his eyes again. "That's not the problem at **all**. It's scary as all hells, and it felt like it was going to kill me, but it didn't exactly hurt... in fact, I think it even fixed the cuts and bruises I picked up in that fight."

"Helpful stuff," the other dwarf said conversationally, crouching down next to him and looking him over. "So what **is** the problem?"

"Oh, it's helpful all right," Karthan sighed, stretching one hand out in front of his face and staring at it - a surprisingly slender, long-fingered hand for a dwarf to have. "Too bloody helpful by half!"

* * * * *

Heero jumped as Duo stirred and murmured in his sleep, then lightly stroked his boyfriend's back. He had been twitchy ever since the episode earlier this afternoon.

Duo had slept through the rest of the plan-making, and each time he stirred, everyone would fall silent. Finally, everything had been worked out, and Relena, Quatre and Trowa left, all insisting 'call us if you need us' as they went. Heero had woken Duo for dinner, but the braided boy had barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat and clean up before he fell asleep again. Now it was 11 pm, and Heero was still awake, watching over the boy in his arms.

_Well, I guess that dream __**wasn't**__ just a one-time thing,_ he thought. _I'll have to watch out... be aware that it could happen again. I just hope all of his 'contacts' with Wufei aren't as upsetting! What really happened, though? There must have been some sort of fight... Duo couldn't remember anything but the pain, then the feeling of Wufei being all right. At least he got that much... It would have been bad if he didn't get that relief..._

The Japanese teen's eyes closed as his mind slowly drifted, until he jerked awake as Duo shifted in his grasp, sniffed and mumbled something again.

"Shh... Duo. It's all right. I'm here, it's just a dream," he murmured, running his hand down the other teen's arm.

Duo squirmed again, then said quite clearly, "The world is coming to an end."

_Eh? What?_ Heero blinked, then slowly smiled. "Oh, really? When?"

"Next Wednesday..."

He snorted, then chuckled quietly with relief. It wasn't a nightmare. It was just... Duo.

* * * * *

Trowa fell into bed, glad they finally had the new house completely in order. Now, when Duo was allowed to come home, everything would be ready for him.

Duo... now there was a twist. The tall ex-pilot thought back over the strange events of the afternoon and shook his head. _I still only half believe it, I think. What are the odds? I never thought Wufei was dead, not really, but Duo 'channelling' him is a bit much to accept..._ He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Except for the fact that Quatre confirmed it..."

"Confirmed what?" the shorter blond asked, walking out of their ensuite bathroom and tossing his robe on the footboard. Trowa blinked, not having realised he had said the last bit out loud. Raising the sheet and blanket for his lover, he waited until Quatre had joined him and wrapped him in his arms.

"Quatre," he said hesitantly, "this afternoon..."

The blond sighed. "I know. I almost don't believe it myself... If I hadn't actually 'felt' Wufei, I would have said they were both crazy and needed professional help. As it is, half of me wonders if **I'm** not the one who needs it." Reaching over his lover's body, he turned out the bedside light. "But, I **did** feel him, and I **know** it wasn't some hallucination... any more than Duo's reaction was. I think we'll both agree that there was no way Duo would have faked something like that, even if he could have. So, members of the jury, we have to conclude that Chang Wufei is alive, in some alternate dimension, and can contact Duo Maxwell... as hard as that is to believe."

Trowa pulled the shorter teen over on top of himself and kissed him lightly. "You know, I've always thought it was a bit arrogant for most of the human race to assume that we were the only sentient life in the universe. And, along that line of thought, we have the Doctors' word that alternate dimensions exist... with sentient beings in at least some of them. If there are alternate dimensions, why couldn't one contact the other somehow? Radio waves travel billions of miles through space, eventually... why can't some other form of energy travel to other dimensions?"

"In other words, whatever form of mental energy it is that I pick up on."

"Right."

There was silence for a moment. "And some green, scaly alien on a distant planet could be watching The Roadrunner, or Rocky and Bullwinkle, on our radio waves from hundreds of years ago?"

"Hn. It's a valid theory. ...Or, some green, scaly alien in another dimension could be picking up your thoughts, and treating our daily lives as a particularly riveting soap opera."

Quatre laughed and hugged the darker-haired teen. "I love you, Trowa Barton..."

* * * * *

Lightning struck. Sideways.

Fighters scattered in all directions as white energy shot out from Nataku and grounded... somewhere... beyond the trees to the northeast. Naiya and Terrin threw themselves flat as the crackling bolt shot directly over the wagon they were standing on, thin tendrils licking out from the main arc but never quite touching either of them.

"Phrobus's black balls, what in the hells is **that**?!"

Uthmar shot a split-second glance over to his left, where the voice had come from, and then went back to staring at the impossible thing. He could feel the power radiating from it, like strong sunlight beginning to burn his face, and it was just **hanging** there... "Nice to see you're back with us," he growled.

"Nice to see you finally got serious," Cord growled back, moving up to stand beside the Champion but prudently staying clear of the flaming golden aura still surrounding him. "And you didn't answer me at all, at all, little man. What is that thing, apart from the biggest excuse for a man's takin' to drink that I've ever seen?"

"I'll be in line ahead of you at the bar," Uthmar muttered under his breath, and shook his head. "It's magic. Bloody strong magic, that doesn't seem to be doing anything except making us want beer. Apart from that... your guess is as good as mine. Torframos?" he added, flicking his eyes briefly upwards. "Anything to add to that?"

_=*__**I**__ want a drink,*=_ his god replied grimly. _=*I wasn't sure before, because Wufei never used much at a time, or for long, and there's that strange dampening effect he has that keeps me from feeling him, but... That's __**wild**__ magic. And where he's getting it from-!*=_

"Wufei's doing it?" Uthmar sagged slightly, relieved. "At least it's not something we're going to have to **fight**... Is this something to do with what you felt him doing before? What's he doing with all that energy?!"

_=*Nothing, as far as I can tell! He's just... holding it! Maybe he's planning to do something soon, but calling up that much power and then not using it straight away is like - like cutting down an entire forest and setting it on fire, because you __**might**__ want to warm your hands later and it would be handy to have a fire then! And how in Orr's name did he get a link to the boundary between worlds?!*=_

"The **what**?!"

"You know, little man, some of us can't hear whatever it is that's so surprising," Cord began pointedly.

He never got to finish the sentence.


	30. Chapter 29

Duo glared at his knee. "Damn you, BEND already! Lousy piece of..." He choked off a gasp as pain shot through his leg, and stared at it, biting his lip, as the knee slowly started to work.

Doctor Modi stood at his side and grinned. "That is it, Mr. Maxwell... Keep going, yes..."

The braided teen broke into a sweat as he strained harder, determined that **this** time he'd manage the full 90-degree angle required for his release. "Almost there," he gasped raggedly, fists clenched into the mattress. "A little more... come on..."

Outside the room, Heero grinned as he heard Duo's voice through the closed door. "YES! The God of Death is so out of here! Heero! Get in here! Pack my bag, call Q, let's **go**!"

Heero hurried in as the doctor was helping his boyfriend straighten the leg again.

"Ah, good. Mr Yui, please keep Mr. Maxwell right here until I get back with the new brace. Once we get him into it, I'll sign the release forms. I will set up his therapy schedule, and send that to you in the mail." He turned a stern glance on Duo. "Please remember, young man, that brace is not to be removed for anything except bathing until your therapy begins. You have a long way to go, and if you try to go too fast, you will only set yourself back."

Duo nodded, waving at Heero to hurry up. "I know, Doc. I'll push my limits, but not push past them. Besides, my fleet of nursemaids won't let me mess this one up, right, Heero?"

The Japanese teen looked up from the duffle bag he was packing and nodded. "Right. We'll make sure you follow the doctor's orders..."

"Very good," the doctor replied, hurrying to the door. "I will return momentarily."

Heero looked at Duo as the doctor left and grinned. "...Precisely as far as you want to and no further," he muttered, just loud enough for the other teen to hear him. _Because you'll never forgive me if I try to give you orders again, but if I let you do as you like without arguments you'll end up following the doctor's instructions... most of the time, anyway._

_Hmm. I think I'm getting the hang of this!_

- - - - - -

"Jeez, Heero, what's taking them so long?" Duo groused, sitting on a garden bench outside the hospital entrance. He'd refused to wait in the hospital room until Quatre and Trowa arrived to drive them home, preferring to sign out straight away and wait outside. "You **did** tell them 20 minutes, right?"

Heero sighed, hiding a small smirk. "Yes, Duo, I told Trowa you'd be ready to leave in approximately 20 minutes, and he said he would be here. Just be patient a little longer."

"Patient?" Duo yelped exaggeratedly. "I was patient the whole time I was stuck in that medical dungeon. Is it too much to ask to have my getaway driver arrive on time? That evil nurse, the one who kept trying to make me eat the hospital food instead of takeout, she was watching when we left! For all we know she's plotting to drag me back in there and force-feed me reconstituted powdered scrambled eggs on soggy toast!"

A midsize sedan pulled up in front of them and stopped. Trowa stepped out and walked over to the bench.

"Well, Tro, for a getaway driver, you're not very punctual. I think we'll have to get someone else for when we rob the bank," the braided boy complained teasingly, pulling himself to his feet and leaning on the crutches.

The tall teen led the way to the car and opened the front passenger door for Duo to get in, then moved to the back and opened the trunk. "I see he's pleased to be out of there," he said to Heero as the other boy tossed the duffle in.

"You have no idea," Heero replied. "I think he was getting ready to walk to the new house."

Trowa chuckled. "Come on, then. We'd better hurry before he decides to drive and leaves us here..."

The short ride to the house was surprisingly quiet. Duo watched out the window, occasionally commenting on various houses or gardens, and soon they had turned onto their street. As they pulled into the driveway, Duo groaned.

"Tro, Heero... please tell me I am **not** seeing a pink limo ahead of us in our driveway..."

"Okay, Duo," Trowa said, straight-faced. "You are **not** seeing a pink limo ahead of us in our driveway."

"That was so not funny, Tro," the braided boy sighed. Turning his head to look at Heero in the back seat, he frowned. "I wanted to get my first look at my room without 'Lena around, so if it's awful I can get my expression straight before I tell her 'thanks' and try to sound grateful. And I **know** I told her to ditch the pink car!"

"Duo," Heero said patiently, "It's only been two days. Give her some time. If somebody told you to ditch the black clothes, would it happen overnight?"

"True... But Pargan could have-"

"Duo, get out of the car before Quatre comes flying out here and drags you inside bodily," Trowa said, getting out himself and opening the passenger side door. Heero handed his boyfriend the crutches with a flourish, and they headed for the house, Duo muttering under his breath.

"Okay... happyface, even if it's pink..."

As they climbed onto the porch, the front door opened and Quatre and Relena stood back, giving Duo room to get through. The braided teen stopped short and blinked as he saw the large 'Welcome Home Duo' sign in the foyer.

"Hey, guys, you didn't have to-"

"Oh yes we did," Relena said, smiling brightly as she stepped forward to kiss his cheek. "It's not a real home-coming without a sign, cake and a party!"

As they passed his room to go into the living room, he noticed his door was firmly shut. "What, I don't get to see my room yet?"

"You want to see it now? Before the cake?" Quatre asked, eyes twinkling with mirth. At Duo's nod, he chuckled and opened the door; the braided teen hobbled in and stopped, shell-shocked.

Relena stepped up next to him and wrung her hands nervously. "I hope you like the Gothic style, Duo... if you don't, we can change it..."

Duo didn't even hear her as he took in his room. His eyes landed on the huge mahogany canopied bed, heavy blue curtains pulled back and tied to the bedposts. The matching bedside tables were next, then the desk and bookshelves... the papa-san chair and stool... Opposite the bed was the mahogany entertainment centre, doors open to show the large tv, disk player, stereo and game machine. Duo just stared at it all in shock.

Heero stepped behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his waist. "What do you think? You have to admit, it's not pink..."

Duo broke out of his daze and laughed. "No, it's not pink!" He turned to Relena and grabbed her hand. "It's absolutely perfect, Pretty. You are terrific!"

Relena blushed. "Well, come on," she said, sounding embarrassed at his praise and leading them out of the room. "There's an ice-cream cake with your name on it melting all over the coffee table!"

"Which is why Trowa was late," Quatre informed him dryly. "He had to give us time to buy it and get back here, after all..."

"Ice-cream cake?!" Duo shot one last look back at his new furniture and sped up, heading for the lounge room. "Tro, pal, buddy, I take back all the mean things I said about your skills as a getaway driver. Your timing was **perfect**!"

* * * * *

Halfway through a sentence, about to insist that Uthmar explain exactly what Torframos was telling him, Cord choked on the words and backed up half a step. Elemental hradani stubbornness stopped him from retreating any further, but he couldn't bring himself to criticise the cultists who were backing away, or even the ones who'd thrown down their weapons and were running in blind panic. _It'd be a lie if I said I didn't understand their reasons, after all,_ he thought numbly, staring up at the latest impossibility hanging above the battlefield. _If that weird rope of lightning was enough to drive a man to drink, this is enough to make him climb into a keg an' never come out..._

"Torframos?" Uthmar asked quietly. "If **that** is what Wufei finally did with all that energy, personally I would have preferred it if he'd just continued to hold it. Indefinitely."

"Wufei did that?" Cord said conversationally, not looking around. "You mean... th' lad used that lightning-rope to summon a dragon made out of white fire?"

"I think Wufei **is** a dragon made out of white fire, right now," the dwarf replied flatly. "Am I right?"

=*That's Wufei,*= Torframos confirmed grimly, deep voice seeming to come from thin air between them. =*At least... that's Wufei's spirit. He doesn't seem to be exactly physical at the moment.*=

"Seein' as how he came **through** that tree when he came flyin' over here, I should hope not," Cord muttered.

Still joined to Nataku by a wrist-thick rope of crackling white energy, the long snake-like body hovering above them twisted lazily in midair, fanged head dipping to look down. The armsmen of the Order of Torframos held their position, forming a tight defensive ring around the wagon Terrin and Naiya had been using as an archery platform, but the cultists who hadn't already run for it looked like they were beginning to reconsider their decision. A silent hiss, lips wrinkling back from rows of impressively sharp teeth, tipped the scales in favour of a high-speed retreat back towards the northeast.

- - - - - -

_And for my next trick..._ Wufei thought almost giddily, coiling in mid-air again simply because he could. He hadn't meant to change form again after he'd separated from Karthan and returned to looking like himself, but somehow it had seemed natural to shift to the longer, sleeker form when he wanted to move quickly.

_I suppose I'm more used to thinking of myself as a dragon than I realised,_ he chuckled to himself, twisting through a figure-eight. _I'm a member of the Dragon Clan, after all... there was that stupid 'Solitary Dragon' code-name the elders used for me, though Master O and I were content with just 'oh-five'... Duo used to call me 'Dragon Chang' sometimes... I was even born in the Year of the Dragon!_

Gods, this feels _**good**__!_

A faint warning sparked in his mind at that thought, and his lazy movements slowed.

_...it feels... good? That's all?_ He frowned slightly, staring after the retreating cultists without really paying attention. _I may not have used this energy much, but I've done it enough to know that yes, it feels good, but... every other time, part of me has been sure it __**shouldn't**__ feel good. As if it's something I shouldn't be doing... something that could go badly wrong at any moment... something I should fear..._

Five minutes ago I _**was**__ afraid of it! What happened to change that?! I can't control it, not really, and considering what it can do I __**should**__ be afraid! I was horrified when I realised it was starting to reshape Karthan's body, but now accidentally turning into a dragon is __**fun**__?!_

He coiled again, looking back at himself, at the semi-transparent scales and claws that were somehow so comfortable. _Is it because I'm not in a physical body? It's certainly far easier to change like this... is it 'right' to use the power like this, but 'wrong' to use it to make physical changes? Will it go back to feeling wrong when I go into Nataku? I-_

The thought cut off and his eyes widened as he remembered.

_Nataku. I was going to go straight into Nataku and get everyone - Karthan, Vaijon, Jens and the rest - get them out! What the hell am I __**doing**__?!_

- - - - - -

There was a sudden swirl of white fire, energy levels blazing higher for an instant, and the dragon - Wufei - was gone. Uthmar blinked, spots in front of his eyes from the brief glare, and twisted to look around. He could still feel the power, slightly muted now, but he couldn't tell where the dragon-demon had gone.

_Is this how it feels for Torframos, when he knows something's going on but he can't tell what?_ he wondered, shooting quick glances up, sideways, behind him and back again. He could see the other members of the Order doing the same, and spotted Arwen jogging towards him, head swivelling as if he wanted to be able to look in all directions at once.

_=*Yes, this is __**exactly**__ how it feels,*=_ Torframos's voice grumbled in his head. _=*Frustrating, isn't it?*=_

I'm beginning to sympathise, he thought back wryly.

"I can't tell where he is, either," Arwen sighed, slinging his axe back over his shoulder as he came to a stop beside the dwarf and hradani. "He could be anywhere..."

"The lad's gone into Nataku," Cord said positively, eyes fixed on the looming metal demon.

"...and you know that because?" Uthmar asked, eyebrows lifting. He was tempted to make some comment about hradani ears acting as dowsing rods for magical energy, but bit it back; there was such a thing as taking humour too far, even if Gunnar would never admit it. Besides, hradani were said to be the one completely **non**-magical race in the world.

"Because he was linked to Nataku with that bloody great string made of light, and if he'd gone somewhere else we'd still be seeing it, wouldn't we?" One ear tipped backwards and twitched slightly, managing to convey a shrug without any other movement. "Unless there's a reason you Champion-types can think of why we wouldn't."

"He could have cut it..." Uthmar began, then winced, one hand coming up to rub at his eyes. "In which case he wouldn't be drawing all that power any more, and we wouldn't be able to feel him at all. Argh. You're right."

"I'd take it as a favour if you'd remind me to be smug about it later." Cord smirked half-heartedly. "I'm thinking I'm not in the right frame of mind to be taking proper advantage now."

"And I'm certainly not in the right frame of mind to appreciate you being smug at the moment, so later it is," the dwarf agreed with a sigh. Beside him, Arwen stifled a snicker behind one hand, then composed his face, apparently trying for an expression halfway between 'serious' and 'innocent'.

"Do we chase after the cultists now, or wait to see what Sir Wufei has in mind to do first?"

"Get ready to chase," Uthmar said without hesitation, throwing one last glance at Nataku as he turned to jog towards the watching armsmen. "There's still the rest of the group that went for water to worry about, and we've no way to tell what's happening to them unless we go and look; for all we know, Sir Wufei could be here in spirit because he doesn't **have** a body any more. If he hasn't done anything by the time we've seen to the wounded and are ready to go, we'll move out without him... but let's not get in his way if he decides to move with us, hmmm?"

Arwen shook his head emphatically, eyes a little wide, and Cord laughed. "Aye, well, I'm big enough to run down most of you wee types an' hardly notice, but I'm thinking Nataku would be the one to beat me!"

- - - - - -

Wufei 'stretched' himself into Nataku's systems, moving carefully. The first time he'd done that, he'd felt pushed to do it quickly, get it over with and get out, and he felt that way again; but he could also feel the immense amounts of energy flowing into and through him, far more than before, so he forced himself to take things slowly and cautiously. Plus, this time, instead of just existing inside the systems for a moment, pushing energy to mend the damage Nataku had taken, he was going to have to operate the Gundam from there. It had seemed simple enough when he'd decided to do it, but now that he was actually trying...

_I really, __**really**__ do not want to flex something the wrong way and accidentally wipe out half the operating system,_ he thought grimly. _Really. It's not as if I can pull out the master disks and reload programs, after all - I don't have time, and even if I did I don't think I can physically move anything in this state! For all I know, if I tried to touch the disks I could wipe them too! So... one system at a time, watching for any signs that I'm changing anything._

It doesn't help that I was right... it _**has**__ gone back to feeling wrong!_

The computer clock was an itch at the back of his mind, ticking away the milliseconds, but he had to keep listening to it; if he didn't, he'd discovered he would speed up without meaning to, only realising what he'd done when he 'looked' at the external camera feeds and saw that everything outside had slowed to a bare crawl. Without some sort of time reference to keep him grounded, it was so easy to go faster and faster, moving up to the same speeds Nataku's electrical systems operated at.

_It might be natural for a computer to perform millions of operations in a second, but it's __**not**__ natural for a human mind to do the same thing! Just because it seems like I can, doesn't mean it's a good idea!_

He wished he could wipe sweat off his forehead. Maybe he didn't have a forehead to wipe, and if he'd had one there might not have been sweat on it, but he had a strange feeling that doing something normal and mundane right then would have been a good idea.

_I will be __**incredibly**__ relieved when I can get out of here and back into my own body._

If I can. I don't even know if it'll keep breathing without 'me' in it...

...and I have no time to worry about that now. Later... I'll find out what's happened, and deal with whatever it is, _**later**__. Next, propulsion systems... start with the legs. And pay attention to the clock!_

* * * * *

"It's off! We got the chain off him!"

The relieved shout from the armsmen clustered around Wufei's still body brought Vaijon's head around, and he abandoned his position beside the pile of rubble blocking the chamber's entrance with only the briefest of second thoughts. _I haven't heard or seen anything to indicate the cultists are trying to get back in,_ he rationalised, _and Sir Wufei did engineer quite a substantial cave-in, after all; a guard there isn't __**really**__ needed!_

Having come up with a semi-reasonable excuse for deserting his self-assigned post, he strode over to the small group by the altar, moving as fast as he could without actually running. "Does it look like he's coming back?" he asked, stepping in between Jens and Karthan for a better look. "Now that the chain's off, perhaps he- oh."

"I don't expect him to come back to his body before he's finished with whatever he's doing in Nataku," Karthan muttered, lowering Wufei's head carefully as another dwarf slid a folded cloak under it, "but I was hoping there'd be some sort of change when we got that damned thing clear. Don't know what I was expecting, really... maybe that he'd look a bit less... uh..."

"Dead?" Jens suggested sombrely. "He's breathin' all right, and his heart's still beatin', but he looks more like a corpse than half the real corpses I've seen!"

"It's the eyes," the second dwarf muttered uneasily. "He may be breathing, but he's not **blinking**..."

Vaijon looked away from the blank, slack face with an effort, blinking his own eyes hard. "Shouldn't we do something about that?" he suggested, rather surprised that his voice was steady. "It can't be good for him."

"Neither is the fact that these cuts won't stop bleeding," Karthan said sharply, wiping at trickles of blood with what looked like a piece of his own shirt; belatedly, Vaijon realised that the dwarf was bare-armed, sleeves torn raggedly off. "Is there anything we can use for bandages? Anything **clean**, I mean - I don't trust anything those sadistic bastards have been wearing or using."

"I'll go look!" The knight-probationer spun on his heel and walked off, so focussed on getting away from Wufei's disturbing blank gaze that he wasn't thinking about his dignity any more.

- - - - - -

"What god should we thank for that miracle?" Jens whispered, indicating the retreating blond with a jerk of his chin. "The Almerhas of bloody Almerhas is being **useful**. Willingly."

"Right at the moment, I don't care," Karthan hissed. "It could be Krashnark, and I'd get down on my knees and thank him. The last thing we need right now is for Vaijon to go back to his normal self!"

"Good point. If he went all the way back to the way he was a week ago, he might start arguin' we should just 'let the demon die and rot'. At the very least, he wouldn't be liftin' a finger to help with anything 'menial', and oops here he comes... that was quick."

"Here," Vaijon said, holding a bundle of fur and green silk out towards Jens with his good hand. "It's the cleanest thing I could find quickly."

"Thank you, Sir V- this is your cloak!"

Vaijon managed a creditable smirk. "Yes, well, that's probably why it **is** the cleanest thing available. My mother's laundry women have their pride, you know. Besides, silk is perhaps not the best fabric for a campaign cloak... and I can always get another one. Which would not be the case if Sir Wufei had not saved us all. Just use it, will you?"

"Yes, **sir**," Jens drawled, shaking out the cloak and reaching for his knife. "Pleased to comply with your orders, **sir**."

The smirk wavered as Vaijon looked down at Wufei again, and he swallowed hard. "Less talk," he advised quietly, turning on his heel. "More bandaging."

"Ye gods and little fishes," Karthan said quietly, watching him go. "I do believe our own personal pain in the neck is starting to grow up."

* * * * *

"Now then," Krashnark purred, leaning over the whimpering wreck his twin brother had become, "I think that's a good start. Are you beginning to understand that going against my wishes is **not** a good idea, Sharna?"

There was no answer - no coherent answer, anyway - and Krashnark frowned. "Sharna... I'd hate to think you weren't paying attention to me. You're supposed to say 'yes' here."

More whimpering.

"You're **pathetic**. I've hardly even touched y-"

A newly-familiar taste bloomed at the edge of Krashnark's perceptions, a hot green fire overlaid with the warm spice of Wufei's personality, and the god straightened, his brother nearly forgotten. _Wufei! I can feel him again, he's out from under Sharna's shields - I knew he'd be all right!_

"I'll take the rest of what you owe out of your hide later, **little** brother," he snarled, already starting to fade out of sight as he turned away. There was a faint sob, and he grinned cruelly. "Keep that thought." Then he dismissed Sharna from his mind as he concentrated, moving into the mortal world to check on his future Champion.

He wasn't nearly as pleased by what he found as he'd thought he would be.

* * * * *

Watching through Uthmar's eyes as the members of his Order prepared to march, Torframos was pulled out of his concentration by a tentative mental 'knock' at his barriers. Recognising the touch, he sighed and reached out to his brother's mind.

_=*What is it, Korthrala? I'm rather busy at the moment.*=_

=*Um... I realise that, but...*= The emotions accompanying Korthrala's thought were strange, hovering between suspicion, shock, and amusement. _=*Could you come out here for a moment? Someone wants to talk to you.*=_

=*If it's Khalifrio, I already told her-*=

=*It's not her.*=

=*Who, then? And why can't they just send me a thought, or come in here?*= Torframos thought impatiently.

_=*It's Krashnark.*=_

=*...what?!*=

=*I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I let him in to talk to you directly,*= Korthrala added in a suspiciously innocent tone.

_=*What in Orr's name would a Dark god be doing __**here**__?!*=_

=*Apparently, trying to talk to you, little brother,*= the sea-god confirmed. _=*He's even being reasonably polite about it... I mean, he knocked first. With his hand, not an axe. That sort of thing.*=_

=*Korthrala! This is serious!*=

=*So am I, Torframos. Krashnark _**is**__ here, and he __**is**__ asking to talk to you. Demanding, really. Don't you think you should come out and find out what he wants before he stops being polite?*=_

Another voice cut into the 'conversation', confirming that yes, Krashnark was there, and he was getting a little impatient. _=*Get out here, Torframos! We need to talk!*=_

If it hadn't been beneath his dignity, Torframos would have squeaked.

* * * * *

"We'll be ready to go in a moment, sirs," Cameron reported, jogging up to where Uthmar and Arwen were standing and throwing a sketchy salute. "There aren't many men too badly wounded to join the assault on the temple, luckily, and they'll be staying here, with a small squad to help guard them, Terrin, and Naiya... despite arguments."

"Arguments?" Arwen asked, looking away from Nataku and raising one eyebrow. "Who's arguing?"

"Practically all of them," the armsman said, "but especially Gunnar and Naiya."

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"Because Naiya's already proven that she'll run **towards** an angry god to help Wufei, and Gunnar is Gunnar," Uthmar sighed. "What's his excuse?"

"Sharna and/or his priests are just begging to be taunted, and he's the best we have at that sort of thing," Cameron answered promptly. "He has a point."

"I think we can do without him just this once," Uthmar snorted. "If any taunting needs to be done, Wufei seems to be quite good at it when he lets himself loosen up; for all we know, he's already taken care of it. Gunnar stays here."

"Tell him we can't let the future Jester to the Gods jeopardise his pay rise by straining his wounds," Arwen suggested, hiding a grin behind one hand. "And tell Naiya we'll let Sir Wufei lecture her on the proper place of noncombatants if she insists on coming. That should discourage-"

_=*Arwen? Uthmar?*=_

"Yes, Torframos?" they chorused, looking up.

_=*I hate to interrupt when you're so busy,*=_ the god began dryly, _=*but I've been asked to pass on a message.*=_

"Oh?" Uthmar asked suspiciously. "That's... unusual."

"To say the least," Arwen agreed. "What sort of message, and from whom- if it's not rude to enquire?" he added quickly.

_=*Oh, I don't think __**you're**__ being rude at all,*=_ Torframos said, mental 'voice' becoming even dryer. _=*Krashnark would like me to tell you that he would greatly appreciate it if you would, and I quote, 'Hurry up, damn you, and rescue Wufei's body before anything happens to it', end quote.*=_

"**Krashnark**?!"

_=*Are you sure you haven't been practicing speaking in unison? Yes. Krashnark. One of my nephews, you know, the strong one? He was even reasonably polite in the beginning, though his manners seem to be fraying now. Apparently he feels the Light forces aren't pulling their weight at the moment. Your earlier speculations were heading in the right direction; the party who went to get water were captured by Sharna's forces and taken into the temple, Wufei's spirit has escaped but his body has not, and since Krashnark has no worshippers in the area he wants __**us**__ to handle the rescue. Now.*=_

"...You're not joking, are you?" the dwarf Champion asked.

_=*Not in the slightest. Even Hirahim would have to strain to come up with a joke like this.*=_ There was a slight pause before he spoke again. _=*He says to 'quit talking and hurry the hell up, before Sharna's worshippers do something irreparable to My Champion's body'. Impatient, isn't he?*=_

Uthmar and Arwen looked at each other, blinking, neither sure how to respond... then Uthmar began to smile, a wicked smirk that wouldn't have looked out of place on Gunnar's face.

"If you don't mind, m'lord Torframos, would you care to point out to His Dark Godness that Wufei is not actually his Champion, and in fact seems to be resisting the idea quite strenuously?"

There was an odd mental sputter before Torframos replied. _=*I'll, ah, pass that on.*=_

"**Uthmar**!" Arwen hissed, horrified. "What are you **doing**?!"

"Taunting," the dwarf replied, smirk widening.

"You **can't**-"

"Wufei started it," Uthmar pointed out. "I'm just... following in his footsteps. Continuing the tradition. Blame it on Gunnar's influence."

"Should I get Gunnar to help?" Cameron suggested, seemingly torn between delight and horror.

"I think we can handle it, thank you."

_=*Ahem. Krashnark would like you to concentrate on rescuing Wufei's body now, and worry about insignificant details such as his precise status __**later**__, if you wouldn't mind terribly,*=_ Torframos said in exquisitely polite tones.

"I bet he didn't put it that way," Uthmar snickered.

_=*Not exactly, no. I thought I'd translate.*=_

"I think I'm glad."

_=*I __**know**__ you are. Believe me, you didn't want to hear the, um, unexpurgated version. He was quite vehement about it.*=_

"...Did he say 'please'?" Arwen put in, voice slightly shaky. Uthmar grinned and reached up to give him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

_=*Nnnnnnoooooo,*=_ Torframos said slowly, _=*I don't believe 'please' was among the many and varied words he used in that outburst.*=_

"I don't think we should do what he wants unless he asks **nicely**," the human Champion continued, gaining confidence. "I'm sure **Wufei** would insist that he should ask nicely if he wants cooperation from us."

* * * * *

"They want you to say 'please'."

Krashnark stared at Torframos. "...**What** did you just say?"

"They want you to say 'please'," the Light god repeated. In the background, Korthrala was failing miserably to disguise his laughter as a cough. "Apparently they feel that Wufei would insist on the niceties being observed."

"**If** I say... 'please'..." Krashnark gritted out between clenched teeth, barely restraining his temper, "will they do as I s- ask?"

"Probably," Torframos said cheerfully. "Almost certainly, in fact."

There was a long, ominous pause.

"Very well. **Please**."

* * * * *

_=*He's asking nicely. He said 'please'. Grudgingly, but he did say it,*=_ Torframos reported. _=*Are you satisfied?*=_

"I think we'd better be," Uthmar chuckled. "Tell His Dark Godness we're on our way." Arwen just nodded enthusiastically, stunned by his own boldness.

_=*Done.*=_

"...Did he say 'thank you'?"

_=*Let's not push things any further, all right? I think Krashnark has strained his pride more than enough for one day.*=_

"Good point," Uthmar admitted. "In which case, you'd better not tell him that we would have gone after Wufei's body anyway, without him... ah... requesting it."

_=*I wasn't planning on doing any such thing,*=_ Torframos assured him. _=*Now get moving.*=_

A rumbling noise from off to their left interrupted Uthmar and Arwen before they could reply as Nataku stood up, leaves and twigs falling from the nearest trees with the vibration of its first footsteps.

"Now **there's** a weight off our shoulders," Uthmar said, grinning up at Arwen and Cameron and seeing their relieved smiles. "I was beginning to worry that something else was going wrong for the poor lad, as if he hasn't had enough trouble... Let's get a move on!" he shouted, waving at the waiting armsmen. "We're supposed to be rescuing Sir Wufei and the others! It'll look a bit ungrateful if we make him rescue himself!"

- - - - - -

Moving Nataku from within its computer systems was a far cry from sitting in the cockpit working the controls, as Wufei was quickly finding out. Even with his reflexes and the training he'd undergone, there was still a moment between him deciding on an action and his body actually **doing** it; and even with the best engineering, programming, and parts in the Solar System, there was always a tiny hesitation between his moving a control and the Gundam responding. Now Nataku was reacting immediately to his thoughts, and his first few steps were clumsy as he compensated for delays that weren't there any more.

_Wonderful. None of the problems I was worrying about have happened, but a problem I never thought of has... well, that's normal, I suppose. Duo said it was one of the corollaries to Murphy's Law - number fifty-three or so. "Of __**course**__ you can't expect the fucking unexpected! That's the whole point of it being __**un**__expected!"_

Chuckling to himself at the memory, Wufei walked a few more steps, carefully staying clear of those on the ground. _At least it seems to be temporary; I'm already getting used to-_

"Wufei! Wufei, is that you? Are you all right?"

* *UNIDENTIFIED VERBAL INPUT* *  
* *SOURCE - EXTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - NIL* *

_Eh? What was that?! ...A system check? I can __**hear**__ Nataku's system checks? Weird... now, can I do something about answering Naiya, or am I going to be stuck making gestures?_

A few moments' worth of poking around through the Gundam's minor electrical systems, something that Wufei visualised as feeling through bundles of wires until he 'touched' one that 'felt' right, and he was able to find the external speakers. Actually using them to make words instead of random staticky noises was a bit more difficult, but at least he could hear himself and work out what corrections needed to be made.

[ [ SSSSZZZZZSSZRK - sssSSSsssszz - ssssaAaAaA - aaaaaa - aaaah ] ]

"Is that Wufei or Nataku?" Naiya asked Uthmar, looking up at the Gundam with a worried expression. "Do you think everything's all right?"

[ [ aah - ah - mmmaaa - mmmm - me. It's me, ] ] Wufei managed, pronunciation still a little off, but understandable. _-Oh, __**that's**__ helpful!_ [ [ Wufei. ] ]

"Thank goodness," the hradani girl said with a relieved smile. "How did you get back here and into Nataku without anyone seeing you? And what was happening with the lightning and that dragon-thing? Did you do that somehow?"

[ [ Ah... sort of... ] ]

"I'll explain later," the dwarf said quickly, putting a restraining hand on her arm. "If you can lead us back to the temple, Wufei, that'll be quicker than if we have to search for it; the sooner we get your little problem sorted out, the better."

[ [ You know? ] ] Wufei asked, surprised.

"I know," Uthmar confirmed, and, surprisingly, grinned.

"**What** do you know?" Naiya asked in tones of deep suspicion.

"I know that Krashnark wants this taken care of so badly that he went asking favours of Torframos, that's what I know," he chuckled. "If I were your father, Wufei, I'd be asking questions about his intentions by now."

[ [ He is **not** after me for **that**! ] ] Wufei sputtered, nearly losing control of the speaker system in his indignation. An outburst of stifled laughter from the direction of the waiting armsmen confirmed that several of them had heard it, too, and he groaned inwardly. _I'm never going to live this down..._

"A Dark god asking favours from a Light god," Naiya said incredulously. "A **Dark** god is asking **favours** from a **Light** god?! Just what is this 'little problem' that he wants fixed? What's wrong?"

Uthmar eyed her for a moment, tipping his head back to meet her eyes, and apparently decided that answering the question would cause less problems than trying to evade it any longer. "The reason you didn't see Wufei get into Nataku was because he didn't, really," he told her bluntly. "His mind is here. His body is somewhere else."

"...Somewhere else," she said slowly, looking back and forth between him and the looming metal demon. "If Krashnark wants that fixed so badly, it's somewhere **bad**, right? And given where we are and what we're doing..."

"That's right," the dwarf Champion said, nodding as she put two and two together and came up with the right answer. "Before you say anything, no, you are still **not** coming with us."

Her mouth snapped shut.

[ [ Definitely not, ] ] Wufei agreed. [ [ My body and the others with me are safe for now, I think, but anyone going after us will not be. You may be stronger than any human woman, but you are still not a fighter. ] ]

"I did well enough in **this** fight!" she protested half-heartedly.

"Shooting a bow from behind a static defence," Uthmar pointed out, "and we didn't exactly have a choice about whether or not you were involved. We do now. You can do us a lot more good here, sitting on Gunnar to keep him from following us, than you can going with us! In a moving fight, we won't be able to spare anyone to protect you, and if we tried, we'd probably just get both you and them killed."

Naiya winced, closing her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "All right. I knew it was a stupid idea, anyway. Just... come back in one piece, please? Especially you!" she snapped with some of her usual vigour, waving a finger up at Wufei/Nataku. "Get back **into** one piece first, and then come back without spoiling it! You hear me?"

[ [ I hear you, ] ] he chuckled. [ [ You sound like Duo nagging Heero. Ninmu ryoukai. ] ]

"What?!"


	31. Chapter 30

Quatre set his plate down on the coffee table and sat back, stifling something that could have been either a hiccup or a tiny burp. "Oh dear," he said, tugging at the waistband of his slacks. "I shouldn't have had that second slice..."

"You don't sound very repentant," Duo snickered, scraping up the last mouthful of his third slice of ice-cream cake. "Admit it; indulging yourself once in a while won't kill you. Or you either, Pretty!"

"The only problem with that idea is that 'once in a while' can very easily become 'all the time'," Relena sighed, eyeing the cake's devastated remains, visibly tempted. "Then it might not kill you, but it can make you need a whole new wardrobe."

"We're going to revamp your wardrobe anyway," Duo pointed out. "Trust me, you'll burn off enough calories in our raid on the shopping district to make sure your dress size won't change! And even if it does, that's what the filthy rich have tailors for."

"I am **not** filthy rich," she sniffed haughtily, drawing herself upright in her chair. "All my money is **scrupulously** clean. That's what banks have coin washers for." The corner of her mouth quivered slightly, but she got it back under control as she leaned forward to cut another, smaller slice of cake. "Naturally, Pargan has the bills dry-cleaned before he irons them..."

Heero and Trowa had been maintaining deadpan expressions throughout this, but Duo made the mistake of glancing at Quatre and collapsed in laughter, pointing helplessly at the blond boy's half-incredulous, half-horrified expression. "Oh! Oh, ye gods, 'Lena, that's a good one!" he sputtered, doubling over. "Oh, oh, and I can just **see** Pargan wearing a frilly apron while he irons a laundry basket full of credit notes! Admit it, Q-bean, she had you going there for a moment!"

"I'm just not used to Relena making that sort of joke," Quatre protested weakly. "Especially not deadpan. I mean, if it were you, Duo-"

"But it wasn't me, which is what makes it so good," Duo grinned. "I couldn't believably make that sort of joke, even if you weren't used to me pulling your leg. 'Lena can pull it off just fine. Picking the right joke is just as important as timing and all that. You have learned well, Grasshopper," he intoned pompously, winking at her.

"You've been an excellent teacher, Sensei," she replied, batting her eyelashes.

"The Earth Sphere government would be shaking in its collective shoes if it knew the interim Vice-Foreign Minister was taking lessons in mental guerrilla warfare from an ex-terrorist," Trowa pointed out dryly, depositing his plate on the table and sliding one arm around Quatre's shoulders. "Not to mention the fuss if they found out you've been asking **four** ex-terrorists for advice on peacekeeping, 'Lena. You did say some of them would have conniptions if the head of the peacekeeping force had an aggressive-sounding title, after all; if you mentioned us, they'd probably die of shock!"

"Well, they're going to have to get used to the occasional shock," Relena said tartly, hiding her surprise at hearing someone other than Duo casually abbreviate her name. "Especially if I take Duo's suggestion and nominate Lady Une as the peacekeepers' head officer. After all, she probably deserves to be called an ex-terrorist far more than you do! She deliberately targeted civilian populations on more than one occasion, whereas you Gundam pilots only went after military targets and did your best to limit collateral damage and casualties. The only reason you've been called terrorists more than she has is because she was in uniform."

"And because she never actually pulled the trigger when she was targeting those civilians," Heero shrugged, seemingly indifferent. "She just threatened to."

"You mean you defused her nukes, and blew up Wing before she could shoot the colony, and then Kushrenada rained on her parade and made her act nicer," Duo snorted, digging a finger into Heero's ribs. "Which proves my point-"

"Which one?" Trowa wondered innocently.

"The one about how she was doing it all for Treize. All the really bad things she pulled were at the beginning of the war, before he yanked her back under control and told her to be 'more elegant'," Duo explained patiently. "If she accepts that leading the peacekeepers would be the same as working for Treize's dream of system-wide peace, **and** she has clear restrictions on what she can and can't do, she'll work her butt off and do a damn good job. Hell, she nearly stopped **us**..."

"Hm." Quatre raised an eyebrow. "Good point!"

Relena raised her voice slightly, cutting across a faint snort from Heero and a quiet chuckle from Trowa. "If the mutual admiration society could take a short break...? Duo, you don't have to convince me that Lady Une is a good choice to head the peacekeeping force - which we are going to have to find a name for soon, preferably something catchy and confidence-inspiring. I did some thinking last night, and a little fast investigating, and Une really does seem to be the best candidate. I even think I can convince the rest of the interim cabinet without having to yell myself hoarse more than once or twice."

All four pilots looked at her incredulously. "...You must have one hell of an argument in mind, Pretty," Duo said in an awed voice. "Do tell!"

"Oh, don't look at me like that, it's nothing stunning!" she told him, mildly exasperated. "It's just a matter of laying out the facts. One: The peacekeeping force will almost certainly be a paramilitary organisation, with more powers than a civil police force but more restrictions than a purely military force. Not only is it the best setup for what they'll need to do, but believe me, it's the only setup that the cabinet will be able to agree on. Between the hawks and the doves and the people who just want to agree on **something** so we can move on..." She grimaced. "I'll propose it, the people who want to get something accomplished will seize on it as an acceptable compromise, and the die-hard radicals will be outvoted.

"Two: An organisation this important can **not** have a complete novice as its first commander. In the future, we'll be able to appoint new commanders from within its ranks, but for now, we'll have to choose somebody with experience in a related field; either a senior military officer, or a senior police official.

"Three: I managed to speak briefly to three experts on military history and five business management experts last night."

"You **have** been busy," Trowa murmured.

"I was lucky," she sighed. "All but two of them live in time zones where our late evening is their office hours, and the other two are night owls. I caught them all awake, and in cooperative moods. I presented the situation to them as a rather vaguely defined hypothetical case, and they all agreed that when you are setting up an 'in-between' sort of organisation, like this one, you should start with someone who's familiar with the broader range of capabilities - in this case the military powers - and have them set up the organisational structure while keeping the necessary parameters in mind. Apparently that's easier than it is for someone who's worked under narrower restrictions to, um, 'spread out' and make proper use of the wider powers they aren't used to. Therefore, we need somebody military.

"And four: the main objection to Lady Une is that she was a major figure in OZ, correct?"

"Well, yes, that and the fact that threatening civilians is hardly proper behaviour for an officer!" Quatre protested.

Relena shook her head. "Hardly anyone knows about that. As Heero said, she didn't manage to follow through on those threats, and as Duo said, she behaved much better after Treize Kushrenada made his views on the subject clear. Did she ever try something similar afterwards?"

"Ah... no..."

"Do you - any of you - think she is likely to do something like that again?"

"I wouldn't've suggested her if I did," Duo shrugged. After a pause for thought, Heero and Trowa shook their heads; then Quatre sighed and capitulated.

"She practically venerated Kushrenada, and I doubt that's changed with his death. If anything, she's now **less** likely to do something he'd disapprove of than she was when he was alive."

"Good. You see," Relena said wryly, spreading her hands, "as far as I can tell, just about every other plausible candidate is **also** a high-ranking member of OZ, or an ex-member of the Alliance military - which is just as bad, if not worse - or dead. Or some combination of the three."

"Well, my first choice was actually Kushrenada, but I doubt we could get him to run the organisation through a Ouija board," Duo piped up cheerfully.

"Heero, could you duck, please?" Relena asked sweetly, then pulled a small cushion out from behind her and threw it across the coffee table. Smirking, Heero ducked obligingly, and the cushion hit Duo full in the face, nearly ricocheting into the remains of the ice-cream cake before Trowa rescued it.

A faint smile curling the corner of his mouth, Trowa handed the cushion back to her with a bow. "In the interests of preventing this from degenerating into farce," he began, "I suggest we-"

"That's it!" Quatre exclaimed.

"...what?"

"That's the perfect name!" the blond insisted. "Preventers. It puts the emphasis on preventing trouble, instead of putting it down **after** something happens."

"Hn." Heero nodded judiciously. "I like it."

"I **love** it," Relena agreed. "And it should even go some way towards reassuring some of the twitchier cabinet members!"

* * * * *

* *10:17:05.342* *  
* *10:17:05.343* *  
* *10:17:05.344* *  
* *10:17:05.345* *  
**10:17:05.346* *

_And people say the Chinese Water Torture is maddening,_ Wufei thought sourly, listening to the computer clock counting off the milliseconds. _I'd be twitching by now if I had skin to do it with!_

Somehow, even though he was managing to keep his personal perception of time close to normal, so that a second felt like a second and not several minutes, he could 'hear' each individual millisecond tick over, not just as an anonymous click but as a quiet mechanical voice stating the full time. _Like listening to a speaking clock that's been sped up a __**lot**__. 'At the third stroke, it will be...'_

* *10:17:12.998* *  
* *10:17:12.999* *  
* *10:17:13.000* *  
* *10:17:13.001* *

_...even though logically I can't possibly be hearing - and __**understanding**__ - a time-check every millisecond. It's not as if I need that level of accuracy. Not even Heero tries to time his plans that closely!_

A faint staticky noise came from Nataku's speakers, the closest Wufei could come to growling under his breath. _I will be very, very glad once I get back into my body. Very glad. As soon as I've got my body out where I __**can**__ get into it, and the others are safe, and the cultists aren't a threat, and that chain is off me-_ Another staticky noise. _I don't believe that I'm acting as part of my own rescue party. Gah! If this were a mission, Duo would be commenting on how screwed-up it's-_

* *MISSION PROFILE* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA [LOCATION: INDEFINITE]* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *TIMEFRAME: INDEFINITE* *  
* *PRIORITY: URGENT* *  
* *STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *

_What the __**fuck**__?!_

Luckily for everyone near Nataku's feet, Wufei had found the independent subroutines that handled normal movement shortly after he'd got the Gundam to stand up. This meant that instead of him having to direct each step, Nataku was now walking on automatic pilot... and nobody got squashed when he reacted in startlement to the latest surprise the computers had sprung on him.

_That was another computer alert - a mission log this time, not a systems check - but where'd it come from? I certainly didn't write it!_

A moment's thought supplied the answer, as a few more milliseconds ticked by.

* *10:17:46.056* *  
* *10:17:46.057* *  
* *10:17:46.058* *

_Nataku's computers do have the capacity to run a search and gather related bits of information together in whatever format is required. If that search was triggered by me thinking of this as a mission, that explains why it brought up a mission profile. Still, it can only run a search on its own data banks, and I haven't entered anything into them... about... oh._

Damn.

I think it's treating my memory as one of its data banks. Which means my connection to Nataku is closer than I thought. Which _**could**__ mean that I'm going to start having the same problems I had when I was sharing Karthan's body._

Which means I'd better get this finished and get back where I belong _**fast**__!_

* *MISSION PROFILE - UPDATED* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA [LOCATION: INDEFINITE]* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *TIMEFRAME: INDEFINITE* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT [UPDATED FROM 'URGENT' 10:17:59.107]* *  
* *STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *

_...Oh, shut up._

* *10:18:02.223* *  
* *10:18:02.224* *  
* *10:18:02.225* *  
* *10:18:02.226* *

- - - - - -

Uthmar could hear one of the dwarven lay brothers behind him, deep voice 'encouraging' the rest of the men. "Come on! Double-time it! We've got people to kill and people to save, and if you bunch of lily-livered halflings can't keep up, Sergeant Karthan and the demons will get fed up with waiting and finish the job before you get there!"

"That's Halvdan, isn't it?" Arwen asked, jogging beside him.

"Uhuh," Uthmar grunted affirmatively.

"We should probably recommend him for sergeants' training," the human Champion mused thoughtfully. "He doesn't quite have Gunnar's style, or Karthan's flair with words, but he does have a certain... how should I put this..."

"I could kick your ass along this trail faster than you're moving it!"

"...forceful authority?"

"Uhuh."

"I'd save the conversation for later, if I were you," Cord suggested in a polite voice. "I'm thinking the little man is needing all his breath for running."

"Not quite all," Uthmar corrected him shortly, not glancing aside from his intent concentration on the faint trail they were following. "Saving enough to fight."

"Ah, there, y'see?" the hradani smiled. "At most, talkin's third on his list of things to use air on right now."

"Mine too," Arwen admitted. "Still, it was coming in handy for number one on my current list of things to do with my mind."

"And that is...?"

"Thinking about something that is **not** endless variations on 'bad things we might find in Sharna's temple'. Oh, and also not 'what the hell did we think we were doing, taunting a Dark god?!'."

"From my point of view, there was no 'we' about it," Cord grinned. "That was all **you** two, and quite impressive it was as well."

"Don't remind me," Arwen groaned. "I still can't believe I joined in..."

About to respond, Cord looked up and flattened his ears. "Now what's got into Longshanks there?"

Nataku's steps had been slow and fairly short, keeping the towering Gundam down to a pace the troop of humans and dwarves could maintain, but now it was accelerating, long strides taking it ahead.

"Wufei?" Arwen called anxiously, speeding up himself. "Wufei, wait! We can't keep up if you go that fast!"

[ [ I have to hurry, ] ] came the response.

"Why? Is something- no, of course something's wrong," the Champion muttered, shaking his head. "Ridiculous numbers of things are wrong. Is something **else** wrong?" he rephrased, raising his voice again. "Something new?"

[ [ No. ] ] A pause, and then a faint crackling noise. [ [ Not exactly something new. I need to get back into my body soon. That's all. ] ]

"Yes, but if you get there ahead of us we can't help- gah. Looks like he's stopped listening."

Cord nodded, eyeing the receding Gundam with something like professional interest. "That big metal body's got a good turn of speed, too, no matter how ponderous it looks."

"There's no way we're going to be able to keep up," Uthmar said, managing an exasperated voice through his panting. "If he runs into something he can't handle alone - if there's a wizard-priest or another demon - there won't be a damn thing we can do to help!"

"I don't know how much help I'd be against a demon," Cord said mildly, "but there's never been a wizard born whose magic will work properly on a hradani who's given himself to the Rage. And I **can** keep up."

"You can what?!" Arwen sputtered, almost falling over as he twisted to stare at Cord while still running. "How can you keep up with **that**?!" One hand waved at Nataku's back, moving further away with each step. The trees on either side of the path weren't far enough apart to allow the hulking machine to pass unobstructed, but they weren't slowing its passage any more than long grass would slow one of the soldiers; Nataku was breaking branches and even pushing trees down when necessary, forging ahead without a pause.

"Th' lad's clearing me a nice path, isn't he?" the hradani said cheerfully, one ear flicking up and down. "I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it, now wouldn't I?" And with one last ear-flick he was gone, loping along in the Gundam's wake with surprising speed.

The human Champion watched him go, looking as if he felt vaguely cheated. "How the hell does he move that fast without looking like it's an effort? How the hell does he move that fast at all?! His legs aren't **that** much longer than mine!"

"Yes they are," Uthmar growled. "Now stop being jealous and concentrate on running."

- - - - - -

* *10:24:29.144* *  
* *10:24:29.145* *  
* *10:24:29.146* *  
* *10:24:29.147* *

_Disengage energy analysis mode,_ Wufei thought, focussing his thoughts in the mental 'direction' that would send the command to Nataku's main processor. _Scan local coordinates, motion and energy detection, and display map._

* *SCANNING... PROCESSING... COMPLETE* *

The requested map appeared with what felt like an almost smug -click-, and Wufei raised a mental eyebrow. _So easy it's beneath you, hmm?_

* *INVALID COMMAND* *

There was a fair amount of motion visible on the contoured terrain map, small animals making good time away from the large disturbance in their territory, but no tracks large enough to be human (_Human__**oid**__,_ Wufei corrected himself) except for one coming up fast from behind.

_Rear camera on. Zoom in- oh, it's Cord. So all the cultists must already be back in the temple; they can't have run far and fast enough to be out of range in the time they've had. Sharna's filthy green energy is all over the place, too, which is another reason to think that the temple entrance is here somewhere. I wasn't able to get a clear idea of its location when I was brought in, but that doesn't mean I can't find it again!_

Clear map overlay; switch to infrared scan, personnel temperature range, and display.

* *SCANNING... PROCESSING... COMPLETE* *

_And... there it is._ Wufei felt quite smug himself, looking at the slowly fading heat trails that showed where several dozen warm bodies, more or less human-sized, had moved not so long ago. The faint individual trails blended into one another, becoming stronger as they clumped together like the tributaries of a river, finally merging into one strong trace that ran down into a shadowed, rocky gully... and stopped.

_Hm. Somehow I don't think they all grew wings and flew away. Therefore... replace previous overlay... aha. Lots and lots of Sharna's energy at the spot where the trace disappears, looking rather like that revolting green goo Duo put in Heavyarms's gun ports once. I don't have to think for very long to work out what __**that's**__ doing._

"Wufei!" Cord came to a stop near Nataku's feet, not even breathing hard despite how fast he'd been running. "Have you found something?"

[ [ The entrance is here. ] ] Wufei pointed, curious to find out whether the hradani might be able to see something the scanners couldn't pick up.

"Here? Are you sure?" He stepped up to the edge of the gully and then hesitated, peering into the dimness. "I can't see it," he muttered uncertainly.

[ [ I'm sure. It's hidden, but it's there, and the soldiers went in. ] ]

"If you're sure..." Cord began to take another step forwards, then abruptly shuddered and took two quick steps backwards, hands clenching on the haft of Gunnar's double-bladed axe. "Phrobus's black balls!" he swore, ears flattening. "I've no notion what it is, but there's something about that gully I don't like at all, at all!"

[ [ I think it's telling you that you aren't welcome, ] ] Wufei told him, unfolding the Dragon Fang from Nataku's right arm with a thought.

"Aye, well, hradani haven't been welcome anywhere in this world for over a thousand years," he said grimly, "and that hasn't stopped us. D'you have a plan, lad, or are we just going to rush in there and kill anyone who tries to stop us?"

[ [ I don't think I'd fit. This should work nicely, though; stand back. ] ] And the Dragon Fang dipped down and spat flame.

The thin grass and low, scrubby bushes in the gully blew away as ashes and smoke in the first seconds, and the earth between the rocks began to glaze over. Wufei was feeding the crackling white energy into the flamethrower, holding the focus of the flames on the main concentration of Sharna's energy, and could see the sickly green clot eroding under the assault.

_I don't have that much fuel left for the Dragon Fang,_ he thought, vaguely worried. _I'm not sure whether I can use that strange energy to fuel it if there isn't some 'normal' flame to act as a carrier wave, or guide, or whatever-_

* *TOTAL AMMUNITION LOAD: 39%* *  
* *LIQUID AMMUNITION IS AT 23% OF CAPACITY* *  
* *RESUPPLY REQUIRED* *

_That was __**not**__ a request for an update, damn it. Still... 23% gives me about three minutes of flame at full intensity, and I'm using it at less than half strength. It shouldn't take more than another ten seconds to finish this, so-_

* *10:25:44.634* *  
* *10:25:44.635* *  
* *10:25:44.636* *  
* *10:25:44.637* *

Thinking of time brought the soft murmur of the computer clock back to the forefront of Wufei's awareness, and he wrenched his mind back to the task at hand with an effort.

_It's getting worse. It's almost hypnotic now, not just irritating, but I can't afford to get distracted. I have to get this done!_

* *MISSION PROFILE - UPDATED* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA [LOCATED AT 10:24:46.093]* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *TIMEFRAME: INDEFINITE* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *

_Yes, I __**know**__._ The last large clot of green energy shrivelled into nothingness under Nataku's fire, and a rock outcropping that had been behind it began to shimmer as Wufei shut the flamethrower down. At first it seemed to be nothing but heat waves, the same as the ones rising from every other inch of scorched ground, until a sudden ripple of blackness wiped away the image of the rocks and replaced it with an angular doorway. The stone above the opening had cracked and settled slightly, splitting the scorpion carved into it in half.

[ [ Ah, ] ] Wufei said, satisfied. [ [ You should be able to see it now, Cord. ] ]

The hradani peered cautiously out from his hiding place behind Nataku's foot, then jerked back with an oath as the waves of heat radiating from the blasted rocks threatened to burn off his eyebrows. "Aye, well, since I don't think I could look that way for more than a second without my eartufts catching fire, I'll have to be taking your word for it," he said sarcastically. "And it may have escaped your notice, bein' all metal as you are now, but I'm thinking that the other lads and I might just be having a bit of trouble getting to that door."

One hard strike from the Dragon Fang finished the job the fire had begun, shattering the stones and collapsing the entranceway. [ [ We're not going to be using that door, and- ] ]

* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *10:25:56.324* *  
* *10:25:56.325* *  
* *10:25:56.326* *

[ [ -we're not going to wait for the others. ] ]

* *MISSION PROFILE - UPDATED* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *TIMEFRAME: INDEFINITE* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *  
* *OTHER PERSONNEL REQUIRED: NIL [UPDATED AT 10:25:58.024]* *

Somehow, that last change to the mission profile seemed important. Wufei couldn't take the time to think about it, though. The mission itself had priority.

* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *

_Deploy seismic sensors. Run sonic mapping program, subterranean mode; display map._

Cord watched, bemused, as Nataku paced off a large triangle, driving a long metal spike into the ground at each corner before stalking off to one side. "An' how is that going to be helping us?"

* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - EXTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - NIL* *  
* *10:26:15.446* *  
* *MISSION STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *10:26:15.447* *  
* *SEISMIC SENSORS DEPLOYED* *  
* *10:26:15.448* *

"Wufei?"

* *10:26:17.192* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - EXTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - NIL* *  
* *10:26:17.193* *

About to punch into the ground to provide a shockwave for the sensors to read and interpret, Wufei paused as his forward camera automatically highlighted something moving by his - Nataku's - feet.

"Wufei! Lad, are you all right in there?"

* *10:26:19.007* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - EXTERNAL* *  
* *VISUAL IDENTIFICATION - CORD [CLEARANCE: INDETERMINATE]* *  
* *ACTION...* *  
* *10:26:19.008* *  
* *ACTION...* *  
* *10:26:19.009* *  
* *ACTION...* *  
* *10:26:19.010* *  
* *ACTION - INDETERMINATE* *  
* *10:26:19.011* *

There was no pressing need to respond to the query - Cord didn't have a clearance or a 'need to know' classification that would entitle him to mission and fitness reports - but there was no pressing need to **not** respond, either, since he wasn't tagged as hostile.

[ [ ...Cord? ] ]

"Didn't you hear me? What are you doing?"

* *10:26:23.276* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *STATUS: IN PROGRESS* *  
* *CURRENT TASK: SONIC MAPPING, SUBTERRANEAN* *  
* *10:26:23.277* *

[ [ Echolocation. ] ]

Cord looked baffled. "What's that when it's at home?"

[ [ Priority task in progress. ] ]

"**What**?"

* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *

[ [ Proceeding with primary objective. ] ]

The small figure at Nataku's feet fell over and vocalised noisily when Wufei struck the ground to create the necessary shockwave, but as there seemed to be no information content in the sounds made, Wufei ignored it.

* *SCANNING... PROCESSING... COMPLETE* *

The complex of tunnels and chambers making up the underground temple showed clearly on the sonar map, easily distinguishable from the well-defined layers of rock beneath a thin skin of soil. Two areas of collapse showed up as blurred patches, one where the temple entrance had been, and the other where a tunnel widened into a large open space-

* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA [SUBSECTION: MAIN HALL - LOCATED 10:26:59.928]* *  
* *CURRENT TASK: EXCAVATION* *  
* *10:26:59.931* *  
* *10:26:59.932* *  
* *10:26:59.933* *

Smoothly, Nataku started to dig.

- - - - - -

"I'm going to swat him," Uthmar panted, glaring ahead to where Nataku's head and shoulders were gleaming above the treetops. "Hard."

Arwen snorted. "Which one? Wufei or Cord?"

"Both."

"I'd advise you to wait until Wufei's back in his own body, then. Swatting him could be a bit painful for you right now, and I doubt he'd even feel it."

"Not if I use Torframos's power to do it," the dwarf growled, eyes narrowing. "He'd feel **that**."

"Don't you dare!"

"Got a reason why not?"

"Because Cord would never let you live it down if you used your power to swat someone for being irritating after you didn't want to use it against Sharna's cultists," Arwen said reasonably. "And **I** would never let you live it down either, since you've never let me forget the time I summoned my axe to show off in front of those girls."

"...It still might be worth it."

Arwen rolled his eyes. "All right, it would be setting a bad example for the men. Especially Vaijon. Therefore I **order** you not to."

"I have seniority!" Uthmar objected, slowing to a trot as the group neared the still demon. Behind them, the armsmen began to fan out in a practiced manoeuvre, not really needing the orders Halvdan barked; those close enough to hear the low-voiced conversation between the two Champions were grinning through their beards.

"Vaijon's still officially my responsibility, which means this matter comes under my authority, therefore seniority means nothing and I get to make the rules," Arwen said triumphantly. "No swatting allowed."

"You're such a spoilsport, Arwen."

"Just returning what you've done to me for years, Uthmar."

Nataku was kneeling in a clear space, an area where the underlying rock was too close to the surface to permit trees to grow. Two-thirds of it was a stony field with areas of scrubby bushes and short grass, unremarkable except for a large freshly-dug hole in front of the metal demon; the other third was a gully, blasted sooty black and smoking.

"Now I see what you meant when you said Wufei and Nataku 'burned clean' an altar to Sharna," Arwen said, dropping the bantering tone from his voice. "This whole area feels wrong, somehow, except for that dip over there."

"You haven't run into a major temple to a Dark god before, have you?" Uthmar asked in a seeming non-sequitur. "Not since you became a Champion, at least?"

"Uh... no."

"Remember that feeling," the dwarf said seriously. "Every Champion can sense a strong concentration of Dark power, but we all do it differently. For me, there's a smell, something like burning and dust. Sir Kieran feels queasy; sometimes he's actually ill after everything's over. You, it seems, get a feeling of something being 'wrong'. We can sense strong Light power too, as an opposite."

Arwen blinked. "So that's why I'm always so comfortable in the Motherhouse? It feels 'right'?"

"Exactly. To me, it always smells like warm spice and flowers - even when the floors have just been rewaxed and everyone else is complaining that it smells like hot lemon soap."

"And Wufei sees power as puddles of light?"

It was Uthmar's turn to be surprised. "...Yes," he said slowly, thinking hard. _I took it for granted that he had powers because he was a demon, but... the ability to clearly sense a god's power is an ability gods and Champions have. I don't think even magi can do it. Why does he have a Champion's power when I __**know**__ he hasn't accepted Krashnark's offer?_

"Where's Cord?" the human Champion asked, cutting across Uthmar's train of thought.

_Back to business - but I'll come back to this later!_ "I don't see him," he replied, looking around. "If he's gone and got himself into trouble by running ahead, I'm going to swat him no matter what you say."

"If he's gotten himself into trouble, you won't **need** to swat him," Arwen pointed out. "I don't see any cultists, and he was with Nataku- uh, Wufei- so he should be-"

Cord's face appeared above the rim of the hole Nataku had dug, dirt-streaked and grinning. "What took you so long, little man?"

"We decided you and Wufei could handle it all by yourselves, so we stopped for a snack," Uthmar called sarcastically. "Where are they?"

"'They'? Oh, you mean Sharna's bootlickers?" the hradani said innocently. "Like you said, we handled them all by ourselves."

"**What**?!"

"Well, to be truthful, Wufei handled them," Cord admitted, pulling himself up out of the hole. "That nice little furnace over there-" he jerked a thumb at the gully- "is where their front door was, and he tracked 'em into it before he broke it down. This little mole hole is the new entrance to their torture chamber or shrine or whatever you want to call it; I guess the lad decided he should make a new door, since Karthan and the others tell me he blocked up the old one before he ever came out to join us and got in Nataku. An' they also tell me that most of these wilderness temples have only the one door to the outside air, which leaves Sharna's bully boys trapped in their own tunnels until they **dig** their way out. Now how's about a hand getting the boys up out of here? Sharna's hospitality's not so good that they want to be taking their time about leaving..."

The two Champions stared at him for a moment, then turned to each other.

"Can I?"

"As soon as we've got everyone out of there, be my guest."

- - - - - -

With plenty of helpers available to lend a hand with ropes and plain brute strength, it didn't take long to get the half-dozen armsmen who'd been captured with Wufei up out of the sacrificial chamber. The hardest parts were bringing up Vaijon, who could only use one hand to pull himself up, and Wufei - well, Wufei's body. It was immediately apparent even to the few armsmen who still weren't quite sure what had been going on with Nataku and the dragon made of white fire that there was nothing of Wufei's mind left in what looked uncomfortably like a breathing corpse.

Cord scratched one ear and looked uneasily at the limp form, wrapped in ragged strips of bloodstained green silk and a warm coat one of the human armsmen had been wearing over his armour. "I'd not want you to be thinking I'm doubting your word, Karthan, but... are you **sure** the lad can just pop himself out of Nataku and back into his own body again?"

"No," Karthan said, biting off the word sharply. "I'm not."

"What do you mean by that?" Uthmar asked. "And- hell's teeth, Karthan, what happened to you?!"

Karthan shrugged, doing a very poor job of trying to look unconcerned as he straightened up... and up, showing that he was now at least four inches taller than the tallest of the other dwarves. His clothes hung oddly on him, too wide and too short; his pants legs were pulling out of the tops of his boots, and the worn place showing where his belt was usually fastened was now a couple of inches beyond the buckle. "Wufei happened to me," he explained, holding his arms out to the sides as if to show off his new body shape. "The priest was starting the sacrifice, and Wufei sort of... went away inside himself. That spoiled the sacrifice. The priest couldn't get him back, so he asked Sharna to, and Sharna messed it up and pulled him right out of his body, which completely **ruined** things."

"A **god** made that sort of mistake?" somebody muttered doubtfully.

_=*If it's Sharna, I can believe it,*=_ Torframos muttered in his Champions' heads.

"This is **Sharna** we're talking about," Karthan snapped, unconsciously echoing him. "Up until then, Wufei had been cut off from his link to me and blocked from using his powers by a hooked chain around his neck - there was a spell on it, it burned Sir Vaijon when he tried to take it off," he added, speaking quickly. "Once he was out of his body, he was away from the chain, we got the link back, and somehow it pulled him right **into** me."

"And that did this to you?" Arwen asked.

"It was Sir Wufei who defeated the cultists, fighting in Karthan's body," Vaijon put in, looking anxious. "Afterwards, he spoke to me. He was... in considerable distress; he said that they were beginning to blend and run together, mind and body, and he had to get out before it was too late. He went to Nataku partly because he could not yet go back to his own body, and partly because he believed you would need help."

"I think he got out before we did anything to each other's minds," Karthan went on. _Except that we now have a lot more of each other's memories..._ "I don't know yet if the changes to my body are permanent. The point is, he's been in Nataku a lot longer than he was in me!"

"But he's in and out of Nataku all the time," Uthmar began, not understanding.

"He spends a lot of time **linked** to Nataku," Karthan corrected him. "When he does it, he's **in** his own body. It's different this time!"

"If he's all right, why isn't he already back in his body?" Vaijon pointed out. "The chain is off him, he's out of the temple, and he doesn't **need** to be in Nataku any more!"

"He was acting odd just before he started digging you out," Cord said slowly, looking up at the silent metal figure. "He hasn't said a word since..."

"Wufei?" Uthmar called tentatively.

-

* *10:43:59.997* *  
* *10:43:59.998* *  
* *10:43:59.999* *  
* *10:44:00.000* *  
* *MISSION PROFILE* *  
* *TARGET: TEMPLE OF SHARNA* *  
* *OBJECTIVE: PRISONER RETRIEVAL* *  
* *PRIORITY: MOST URGENT* *  
* *STATUS: COMPLETE* *  
* *CURRENT TASK: NIL* *  
* *10:44:00.001* *  
* *10:44:00.002* *  
* *10:44:00.003* *  
* *10:44:00.004* *

"Wufei?"

* *10:44:01.214* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - EXTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - NIL* *  
* *10:44:01.215* *

- - - - - -

"What do we do?" Arwen said softly, half to Uthmar and half to Torframos. "Is there something we **can** do? Is Wufei still in there?"

=*I can't tell you,*= the god said regretfully, soft voice seeming to come from a point between them. =*I can't even **see** them except through your eyes, remember?*=

"He's there," Karthan said definitely. "He hasn't faded, or dissolved, or anything like that, but I can't feel him properly. The link is almost closed, and... it's like he's asleep, or nearly so. I tried to yell at him, but nothing happened."

"And our power comes from Torframos, so it's not likely we can do something he can't," Uthmar said. "This isn't exactly something I can heal!"

"What about Krashnark?"

The two Champions looked at Karthan, startled.

"I'm serious. What about Krashnark? **He** can see Wufei - remember Wufei complaining about being watched all the time? He wants Wufei as his Champion! That gives him a link to Wufei, right? Maybe he can do something!"

Uthmar and Arwen looked at each other.

"I'm not sure asking a Dark god for help is exactly something we should be doing," Uthmar began, "but... well, asking a Light god for a favour wasn't something **he** should have been doing, either. I don't think the normal rules apply here. Torframos? What do you think?"

The being who answered them, however, was not Torframos.

=*Since I'm not waiting around for you to ask, we won't worry about the technicalities,*= said a deep, tightly controlled voice out of nowhere. =*Place him in his seat, and leave the rest to me.*=

"Wh- what are you going to do?" Arwen stammered.

=*I promised I wouldn't nag him any more. I think it's time to break that promise.*=

- - - - - -

Karthan's recollection of what he'd seen in various glimpses of Wufei's memories was clear enough for him to find the concealed switch that would open Nataku's hatch and lower the drop wire, making the task of getting Wufei's body inside possible. It still took the combined efforts of four men, lifting from below and pulling on ropes from above, to raise him up in an improvised sling built of branches and clothes; they were as careful as they could be, but fresh blood was spotting his bandages by the time they had him lying on the floor in the cockpit.

"Can't we just leave him like this?" Halvdan asked dubiously, looking at Karthan and then nervously upwards. "If we put him in the chair, either he'll fall straight out again or the belts will cut into his wounds."

=*I said put him in the chair,*= Krashnark said sharply. =*I may not have time to try this more than once, so everything in here has to be as close to normal as possible. Normal, in this case, means in the chair. He can heal later!*=

_If he has a 'later',_ he thought, hovering invisible and insubstantial as he watched them fuss around the body. _My Champion... my __**future**__ Champion... he __**has**__ a future! I won't accept anything else!_

"Now what?" Karthan asked, stepping back. They'd tried to pad the safety harness, but his borrowed memories hadn't told him how to adjust it quickly, and there hadn't been room for much cloth to be folded between straps and skin. The little they'd managed to fit in was quickly soaking through with blood, and Wufei was slumped sideways, head and arms dangling.

=*Leave,*= Krashnark told him. =*Close the armour behind you.*=

"Do you know how long-?"

=*No. Now leave!*=

As soon as he was alone with Wufei, Krashnark materialised, bending over him. His normal ten-foot-tall materialisation would never have fit in the cramped quarters of the cockpit, so he made adjustments without really thinking about it, ending up with a form that was broader but not much taller than Wufei. If he **had** thought about it, he would have realised that he had actually made himself considerably shorter than Vaijon, something that would normally have offended him terribly.

"I know you can hear me," he began, looking around at the inactive screens and softly glowing lights. "I know you're in here. You can't get away from me that easily! Did you think that leaving your body would make me leave you alone? You're mine, Wufei, my destined Champion, and if I have my way not even death will be able to separate you from me."

He went on, picking words that he knew would infuriate Wufei, and hoped that he was right about the human/demon being able to hear him.

- - - - - -

* *11:07:19.826* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - INTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - SECURITY ALERT* *

Nataku's computers came to a slightly higher level of activity, preparing various systems for possible action. Inside the half-ruined temple, in the pile of clothes the priest had cut off Wufei, the flat watch he normally wore under his left wristband began to vibrate in a coded pattern.

- - - - - -

_I seem to be having some effect, at least,_ Krashnark thought, eyeing a small screen that was now lit. A block of small characters appeared, filling themselves in from the top line down, then paused as if waiting for something. _I hope that's good..._

"It's your destiny - your **duty** - to join me, to lead my forces against any fool who would defy us. We can start by crushing those idiots clustered around your knees; they worship the wrong gods, and it would be so easy to do, after all. All you have to do is to stand up and step on them. Of course, if you're going to stand up, first you have to **wake** up..."

A few more lines of text wrote themselves on the screen, and the whole block scrolled up slightly. Nothing else happened.

_That girl he compared me to once, what was her name? Relena? What did he hate most about her? Oh, yes, I remember-_ "If you'd just think about it a little you'd see that I'm right," he went on. "You belong as my Champion. Any rational, reasonable person who takes the time to consider my arguments would be able to see **that**, and so I can't possibly accept any answer other than 'yes'. I'd be doing you a disservice if I allowed you to diminish yourself by not fulfilling your natural function."

More text wrote itself... but this time, Krashnark thought he felt a spark of sleepy annoyance, as if something was grumbling in its sleep.

- - - - - -

* *11:09:03.657* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - INTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - SECURITY ALERT* *

_...go 'way..._

- - - - - -

Still talking, saying anything that came into his head, Krashnark let one hand slip down from the back of the chair to Wufei's shoulder. _Is he warm enough?_ he worried. _He looks pale, and his skin is cooler than the air... is that right? Mortal bodies aren't meant to be without their spirits, and-_ He bent closer. _Is he breathing properly?_

This has gone on too long! I know he can hear _**something**__ of what I'm saying - I've got to come up with something that will shock him awake!_

"Well, we both **know** that you were meant to be mine," he said, trying to sound as arrogant and offensive as he could. "It's a self-evident truth that you're just too stubborn and hidebound to admit."

Nothing.

"In fact," Krashnark added desperately, "I'm going to make you my Champion right now. That's all right with you, isn't it?"

Nothing.

"Silence will be taken as assent! If you don't actually wake up and say 'no' to my face, out loud, I'm going to assume you mean 'yes' and do it!"

A burst of angry static came from the internal speakers. Damn it, Krashnark, don't you dare- huh? What'sssszzzzrrrkkkk-

Krashnark lunged desperately at the speakers as Wufei's voice trailed off into static. "Wufei, wake up! Stay awake! You've got to stay awake and get back into your body RIGHT NOW!"

- - - - - -

* *11:09:54.298* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE - INTERNAL* *  
* *VOICEPRINT CHECK - UNAUTHORISED* *  
* *ACTION - SECURITY ALERT* *

_...what's... going on...? Krashnark...?_

"Get back into your body! Can you hear me? Wufei!"

* *11:09:59.854* *  
* *VERBAL INPUT RECEIVED* *  
* *SOURCE -

_Shut up!_

The soft mechanical voice faded into the background as Wufei forced himself to concentrate.

_Back into my body? But... I __**am**__ in my body... aren't I?_

A mental blink turned his vision inwards, showing him circuits drawn in flickering lightning, power plant burning like a muted star, inactive systems barely visible. Overlaying the precise lines and angles was a similar but more rounded form, glowing faintly green-white, feeling more like **him** than the rest, with thin silver cords spinning out from it; one to the sharp-edged shape drawn in lightning, one somehow **through** that shape and drifting off beyond vision, one to a small warm-glowing figure a short distance away, and one to-

_Oh. He means __**that**__ body._

There was no particular reason for him to do what the desperate voice told him to... but there was no particular reason for him not to, either.

- - - - - -

Wufei cried out, spasming in his seat as he returned to a body in serious pain, and Krashnark caught his shoulders to ease him upright. "Wufei! Don't move, you'll only hurt yourself."

"...Krashnark...?" The voice was a cracked, breathy whisper, but recognisably Wufei's, and undeniably rational.

"Yes?" the god answered, one hand under Wufei's chin to gently help him raise his head.

"Don't... you **dare**."

Krashnark had to laugh. "Forgive me," he said wryly, "but I had to find **something** to say that would shake you back to awareness. I promise, that's the only lie I've ever told you. I can not make you my Champion without your willing consent."

"Good." Wufei started to say something else, lifting his right hand, then gasped in pain as the movement flexed muscles around the stab wound in his palm.

"I said don't move!" Still holding Wufei's shoulder, Krashnark freed one hand to carefully lift the wounded arm. "I can't heal you directly, but I can take the pain from you. Shall I?"

Seeming not to hear him, Wufei pawed left-handed at the buckle of his restraints until Krashnark hissed in irritation and reached for it himself, pushing the quick-release button. Well before Wufei would have been able to manage it himself, Krashnark had helped him to stretch out on the cockpit floor in the closest thing to a comfortable position he could manage.

"I thought gods... weren't allowed... to interfere in the world."

"A minor physical action like that doesn't count," Krashnark said dismissively, waving it off. "All I did was release a catch. You would have done it yourself in a moment."

"Sophist," Wufei gasped, managing a faint imitation of his best sardonic tones.

"Stiff-necked masochist," Krashnark retorted. "Are you going to let me ease the pain or not?" He saw the faint flicker of doubt in Wufei's eyes almost before the Gundam pilot felt it himself, and shook his head. "No debts incurred," he insisted. "No 'catch', as humans would put it, no bribe intended, and I expect no gratitude. It's just that... Sharna went beyond what was permitted him, and harmed you in an attempt to harm me. I have the **right** to go one step beyond what would normally be permitted, and help you, but I will not do so without your permission." He waited a moment, eyes intent, hand brushing a strand of black hair out of Wufei's face. "Will you allow it?"

"I... appreciate the offer," Wufei whispered, eyes slipping shut. "Truly. But I think it would be best if I do not accept."

"But-!"

There was a long, dangerous pause; then the tension drained out of the air, and Krashnark sighed. "There's a fine line between arguing and nagging," he said softly, "and I don't want to break my promise again. As you wish." He stood, reaching to push a button on one of the control panels, and vanished as Nataku's hatch began to open.

_=*Torframos's Champions should be able to help you heal, in any case,*=_ came the grudging admission. _=*I'll see you again soon.*=_


	32. Chapter 31

Vaijon flexed his right hand again, still feeling fading tingles from the energy that had blasted into him when Sir Uthmar had healed his burns. It hadn't felt at all like he'd thought a God-assisted healing would be like; he'd thought it would be more... well... more spiritual, somehow. More obviously **holy**. Champion and wounded man praying together in a gentle haze of the God's power and light, perhaps...

The reality had been a far cry from his rather romanticised imaginings. The dwarven Champion had simply knelt beside him, holding his axe, laid his free hand on Vaijon's wrist, told him to hold still, and - well, he wasn't really sure what had happened then. Sir Uthmar had closed his eyes, frowning slightly, and then all of a sudden his axe had flamed golden and **something** had flashed down his arm and into Vaijon, shocking the two of them apart. Ashamed of having moved when he'd been told not to, Vaijon had straightened up, about to apologise and ready to try again.

Then he'd realised that it was over. He was healed. Well, his hand was still slightly reddened and tender, and Sir Uthmar had warned him that it would take a few days for his full strength to return to that arm, but his hand **worked**! It was a functional hand, not a seared-white claw.

_Not at all the way I'd expected it would be,_ he thought wryly, sliding down the earthen slope into the temple's sacrificial chamber. _But then, I've turned out to be wrong about a few things, haven't I?_

He gave the altar a wide berth, feeling slightly queasy as a waft of rotten-meat smell reached him, mixed with the coppery scent of fresh blood. _Ugh! How that priest could stand over that altar, in the thick of that stink, I don't know... well, to a sick-minded torturer like him, it probably seemed like 'the smell of power', or something equally warped. Good riddance to __**him**__._

Reaching the dim corner where Wufei's clothing and weapons had been thrown, he started gathering them up, wrinkling his nose at the dark stains across the back of the pants and shirt. _That doesn't look like it would wash out easily. It's a moot point, in any case,_ he mused, picking the pants up by their waistband and eyeing the long, ragged cuts that opened them up all the way down each leg. _He's never going to be wearing __**these**__ clothes again..._

Wufei's short black sleeveless tunic was in a similar state, both shoulders and one side slashed open, and Vaijon was about to bundle it up with the pants to be burned when a fold of the silky material slid through his fingers, revealing bright embroidery.

Spreading the cloth out between his hands, Vaijon squinted at the strange beast embroidered on it, turning slightly to let it catch the light coming from behind him. He spent a few puzzled moments working out which bit of the stylised image was which, and the white swirls had him very confused until he realised they were meant to depict small clouds or something similar, not actual body parts, but eventually he managed to decipher it. Something like a long, snake-like lizard, with impressively taloned feet and a whiskered, fanged head.

_This is a picture of what Sir Wufei's spirit turned into!_ he realised, eyes widening. _Sir Wufei was white and this is red and gold, but it's the same creature! It looks something like a dragon... is it a family totem or-_

"Did you find them, Sir Vaijon?" came Jens's voice from behind him, and he snatched the scrap of cloth out of sight, stuffing it into his tunic.

"Ah- yes, his weapons are here," Vaijon called back, hurriedly grabbing up Wufei's sword and knife. He bundled the shredded pants into the crook of his arm on top of the weapons, added the black leather wrist bracers and low slippers to the pile, and was about to stand up when he heard something metallic clatter onto the stone floor.

"Eh? What's this?" he muttered, reaching for the glint of metal and glass.

- - - - - -

"Eeyaagh!"

"Sir Vaijon? What is it?!" Jens shouted, drawing his sword as he scrambled down the slope into the temple. "Sir Vaijon!"

Vaijon was sprawled half on his back in a litter of clothes scraps and weapons, pointing at something in the corner. "It moved!"

"...What?"

"It **moved**!" Vaijon insisted, obviously resisting the urge to back away across the floor.

"What is it?" Jens repeated, edging closer and debating whether or not to sheathe his sword again. Sir Vaijon didn't seem to think the whatever-it-was rated a physical assault, but you could never tell with things you found in Dark temples.

"I don't know. It was in Sir Wufei's clothes, and when I picked it up it **moved**!"

"Yeah, I got that part," Jens muttered, putting his sword up. "Sir."

Stepping forward cautiously, he peered into the dim corner. There was something there all right, something like a tiny belt, about an inch wide and barely long enough to go around a woman's wrist. _Or Sir Wufei's wrist,_ he corrected himself, thinking of the demon's deceptively slender form. _He's got muscles all right, they just don't show that much..._

"It don't look like anythin' the priests would have," he muttered, nudging it with his foot; then he shrugged and crouched down, picking it up. "Funny little thing," he mused, turning it around to look at the flat plate of metal and glass set into the middle of it. "I wonder what-"

It buzzed in his hand.

"Whoah!" he yelped, flinging it away from him as he jumped backwards. "Th' bastard **moved**!"

"I told you so!"

- - - - -

"I wish I **could** heal him," Uthmar said quietly, eyes on Wufei's still figure. Karthan and Naiya were cleaning the small demon's wounds, with Terrin standing by holding bandages, but he barely seemed to notice; he'd swallowed something out of his cross-marked metal box, and now seemed to be almost asleep. He was certainly feeling no pain... which was a great improvement on the way he had been when they brought him out of the little room in Nataku's chest, white-faced and silent, catching his breath whenever they had to touch or move him.

"Has my Naiya been at you again, then?" Cord's deep voice rumbled from behind the dwarf, and he turned to see the hradani and Arwen.

"No, she seems to have gotten the idea," Uthmar snorted. "A lot faster than some people do. There are people in my home mines who've known me for years, and still seem to think that all I have to do to fix anything and anyone is wave my hand. A few of them, at least, concede that I would have to ask Torframos nicely, but none of them understand that they're better off finding a mage with the right talent or a priest of the right god. The thing is, I **can** heal some of them, which is why they don't want to hear that I can't heal their sanitharlahnahk who's visiting from Mountain Heart and just happens to have this old wound that nags him on cold nights. As for Wufei's case, five days of knowing someone, no matter **how** eventful those five days have been, just isn't enough."

"It has been a trifle hectic, to be sure," Cord grinned.

Arwen frowned slightly. "How long **is** long enough?"

"It's more a measure of how well you know someone, than how long it's been. Thinking of trying for yourself?"

The human Champion nodded uncomfortably, flushing slightly. "I've never felt confident that I **could**, and none of the men under my command have ever suffered a wound that couldn't be healed normally except when another, more experienced, Champion was around, so... I've never tried. I think I should, though, even if it's just to find out whether or not I have the ability. Better to find out now, than to try it on a battlefield and **then** find out that I can't."

"That's a sensible enough idea, Arwen, but it doesn't really work that way," Uthmar said ruefully. "If I don't **have** to heal someone, then most of the time I can't. Like Gunnar's side... it's a fairly serious wound, and it'll be some time before he's fit to fight again, but he will eventually heal. I tried to heal it myself, and I couldn't. If he had wound-fever, though, or if we were expecting to have to fight again tomorrow and needed every man on his feet, I'd bet fifty copper kormaks to a dried bean that it would have worked."

"Oh." Arwen blinked. "And Vaijon's hand...?"

"Was never going to heal by itself." Uthmar shrugged. "There are a few Champions who can heal just about anything, life-threatening or not, but most of us are either like me, or can't heal at all. Torframos hasn't talked to you about it?"

"Um, no, he hasn't."

"Then I wouldn't worry about it; when you need to, you'll be able to. If you didn't have the ability, he would have warned you not to count on it."

Arwen grinned, visibly relaxing. "That's a relief. You know, I think I've read almost everything the Order has written down about Champions, and what you've just told me was more information than I've found in any of the books!"

"Well, those records tend to be written by non-Champions," Uthmar pointed out. "We don't tend to have enough time to settle down in a Chapterhouse with a quill and a pile of parchment."

"And would it happen to be that the people who **do** write the books are too much in awe of your eminence to trap you in a quiet corner and start asking questions?" Cord asked innocently.

"I wasn't going to put it quite that way, but you're not too far off the mark."

Arwen coughed a few times, then got his face mostly straight and went on. "So... even if you did know Wufei well enough to heal him, you probably wouldn't be able to because he'll heal by himself?"

"That's it." Uthmar scowled. "Even though he's being stubborn about it."

"What- oh. Th' lad won't use Karthan as a, whadday'call it, template?"

"Because his wounds might transfer over, yes. I can't even tell him that I'll heal Karthan if that happens, because I probably wouldn't be able to - unlike last time. Deafness is a longer-term problem than a bunch of deep cuts. Unfortunately, Wufei **also** won't open his link to Nataku to speed up his healing, because he doesn't trust himself not to get trapped again." Uthmar sighed, blowing air through his moustache. "I think it'll be a while before he stops being a bit nervous about that."

"'A bit nervous'?" Cord's ears tilted at a comical angle. "I'd be a wee bit more than nervous if I thought there was any chance my mind could get sucked out of my body and stuck in a big suit of metal armour, or whatever Nataku is!"

"Even without opening his link he'll still heal fast, though, won't he?" Arwen said anxiously.

"Oh, certainly. Far faster than anyone else would," Uthmar reassured him. "He's just not going to enjoy the next several days at all-"

"Sir Uthmar? Sir Arwen?"

"Jens?" The mismatched trio turned around to see the armsman hurrying up behind them, an expression of mixed worry and relief on his face.

"I know that look," Uthmar muttered under his breath. "'Oh good, someone I can toss this hot potato to...' What is it?"

"Sir Vaijon was getting Sir Wufei's clothes and weapons out of the temple, sir- sirs-" Jens began, nodding his head in an abbreviated courtesy to Arwen and Cord. "-and he found something else with the clothes. We don't know what it is, but it's, uh, moving. Buzzing."

"**Buzzing**?"

"Yessir. Sir Vaijon's bringing it now, sir."

"You must be worried if you're being **that** formal," Uthmar snorted, moving past him to peer towards the temple. "I haven't heard you say 'sir' that many times in one conversation since the time you got caught sneaking your 'cousin' into the barracks."

Jens looked offended. "She **was** my cousin, sir!"

"Of course she was. Your kissing cousin."

"**Sir**-!"

"Don't tease the armsmen when they're under stress, Uthmar," Arwen said absently, looking off towards the newly-excavated temple entrance. "It's not nice. -What is he doing?!"

Vaijon was picking his way over towards them, a bundle of clothes and weapons held awkwardly in one arm, and his other arm held out stiffly from his body. Something was dangling from his outstretched hand, pinched between two fingertips as if he wanted as little contact with it as possible, and just after Arwen first saw him he flinched violently, almost dropping it.

"I told you, sir," Jens said wearily. "It keeps buzzing."

"Y'look like a maiden with a dead mouse by th' tail, lad," Cord called to Vaijon, barely suppressing a snicker.

"I don't mind admitting that it's extremely unsettling," Vaijon said emphatically as he came up, for once not taking offence.

"Like t'see **you** hold it wi'out jumpin', big 'un," Jens muttered under his breath.

Tufted ears twitched. "Oh, y'would, would you? Give that over here for a moment, if y'don't mind..."

Vaijon almost dropped the little belt-thing in his eagerness to hand it over; Arwen opened his mouth to object, then shrugged and just leaned closer to examine it in Cord's hand.

"A little lower, if you two beanpoles would be so kind?" Uthmar said through gritted teeth. "I'm not about to jump up and down like a dog at a treat!"

"My apologies, little man," Cord said genially, leaning over and stretching his hand downwards. "It's a neat little thing, whatever it is- **hey**!"

The little black-and-silver object went flying as he jumped, ears flattening.

"I warned you." "Told y' so." Vaijon and Jens spoke simultaneously.

"Damn thing tickles!" Cord said incredulously, shaking his hand to rid it of the lingering sensation.

"If you're all **quite** finished playing with the potentially dangerous object?!" Uthmar stomped across to where it had landed and picked it up, feeling for any trace of unhealthy energy. _Torframos? Is it safe, or can I start chopping people's hands off to limit contamination?_

=*Now, now, just because they're acting like idiots is no reason to maim them...*=

Can you think of a better one? Uthmar hefted the little thing in his hand, turning it to look at the flat crystal surface. _I can't feel Sharna's energy in this, so it's probably Wufei's-_

=*I agree,*= the god told him, heaving a semi-humorous mental sigh. _=*I can't feel it at all.*=_

"Eh? This thing's a clock!"

"A what?" Cord crowded up behind Uthmar, peering down over his head. "A clock? Are you sure?"

"Look at it! Look at how tiny it is!" The dwarf blinked at it, eyebrows vanishing into his hairline. "My cousin's husband makes pocket clocks, but the smallest one **he's** ever made would come close to filling the palm of your hand. This thing's the size of my thumbnail!"

"Does your cousin's husband make clocks that buzz?"

"He makes clocks that cuckoo," Uthmar said absently, running one thick finger over the side of the metal part. "Hmm... there's a little knob on the side here, but I don't see how you'd ever get a grip on the damn thing to- hnk!"

His arm jerked, nearly elbowing Cord in the groin as the tiny clock demonstrated its ability to vibrate yet again, but he managed to **not** throw it away.

"...Rrrriiight," he said slowly, bringing it back in front of his face and looking at it with renewed caution. "I think we'll just put this somewhere safe and ask Wufei what in Krahana's hells it is once he's awake enough to answer questions, shall we?"

* * * * *

Heero opened his eyes at the sound of water flushing nearby, blinking in the early-morning light filtering in through his curtains. The blue and white tones Relena had furnished his room in turned any colour of sunrise into a cool snow-and-ice glow, and he found himself smiling as he stretched. It had only been a couple of days since Duo had come 'home' from the hospital, but they'd already settled into the house as if it had been theirs for months.

_I never paid any attention to the idea that colour can affect your mood,_ he thought, _but I have to admit that this is very... soothing. I don't think I'd feel nearly as comfortable in Quatre and Trowa's room. Duo's is nice, though._

Of course, the colour isn't the _**only**__ reason I find this comfortable..._

The mattress beneath him was firm, but still almost sinfully soft from his point of view, and he felt slightly guilty as he wriggled deeper under the covers to snatch another five minutes of relaxation. _I'm even staying in bed until __**seven**__! I shouldn't get used to this, but... Duo needs his rest, and we're leaving the doors open so I can hear him if he needs anything in the night, so if I get up __**he'll**__ hear __**me**__, and... hm. I'm getting pretty good at rationalising laziness, too._

More faint sounds from the bathroom that lay between the two downstairs bedrooms reached his ears, and he forgot about lecturing himself as he mentally followed Duo's progress. There was splashing water and the creak of a tap as Duo washed his hands, then a faint squeak of rubber tips on tile as he swung around on his crutches to dry his hands. Another squeak as he started to leave the bathroom; a faint curse and rustle of cloth as he paused to dry the handgrips; two more squeaks before he reached the door into his room, and then the sound was lost as he moved onto the carpet. Heero counted three slow breaths before there was a series of clicks as Duo unlocked the glass door leading onto the patio.

_Looks like he's serious about sticking with his morning hot tub sessions,_ Heero thought, sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed. _He may not be allowed to start physical therapy on his leg yet, but he got Dr. Modi to agree that soaking in a hot tub with the jets going was something close to mild hydrotherapy __**and**__ allowed, and now he's determined to get a head start. I'd have to laugh if he wasn't so serious about it._

'As if you'd be any less serious about it if you were in his place,' a quiet, critical voice at the back of his head put in. _'In fact, you can bet you'd be worse. Do you honestly think you'd actually restrict yourself to doing only what the doctor told you was permissible?'_

Shut up, Heero told the little voice, and got up to make breakfast.

- - - - - -

Heero was halfway through reading the mission plan- er, the instructions for making french toast, rather doubtful about whether a fried mixture of bread, milk and eggs could really be as good as Quatre insisted it would be, when the vidphone rang. He eyed it suspiciously for a moment, then shrugged and accepted the call, sound only.

"Hello?" he said flatly, turning back to his recipe book. _If that's an early telemarketer, they're going to regret-_

[ [ They said yes! ] ] an excited voice squealed.

"...Relena?"

[ [ Yes, it's me, it's me, ] ] she confirmed, still sounding unusually hyper. [ [ Didn't you hear me? They said yes! After only one session! Aren't you excited?! ] ]

Now thoroughly puzzled, Heero twisted around to stare at the dark screen as if he could somehow work out what had the ex-princess so worked up. "Who said yes to what?"

[ [ The cabinet! Lady Une! They- oh, would you just turn your screen on, Heero?! ] ]

Giving way to the inevitable, Heero turned his chair around to face the vidphone and hit the 'accept video' button. Relena's image sprang into view, neatly groomed and perfectly presented as usual, yet somehow more... animated? _Is she actually bouncing up and down?_

"So... the interim cabinet has accepted Lady Une as the head of the peacekeepers?" he half-guessed.

[ [ **Yes**! After only one discussion session! Well, we did go overtime by a few hours- ] ]

_Try about nine, if you just got out of the legislative chambers,_ Heero corrected her mentally, eyeing the clock. The late-night cabinet meetings were supposed to finish at around ten PM, and it was almost half past seven.

[ [ -but I was expecting the conservatives, the pacifists, and the hardboiled anti-OZ factions to drag things out for at **least** four sessions between them. Half of the conservative group were actually supporting me right from the start, and I hadn't even warned them who I was planning to nominate! Of course I warned everyone I could depend on to support me, so they could get their arguments lined up in advance, but I was sure the conservative alliance were going to oppose whoever I put forward just on principle! Lady Une herself was harder to convince! ] ] Relena seemed to sober slightly. [ [ I think she had herself convinced that as soon as we got around to it, she was going to be either shot or locked up for life. She's been... um... well, sort of under house arrest, protective custody really, and... she's been awfully quiet. ] ]

"Resigned to her fate?" Trowa's quiet voice came from behind Heero, and Relena glanced up and smiled.

[ [ Good morning, Trowa, Quatre. Yes... I think that's a good description. Plus depressed. It took her a while to really understand what I was offering her, and then she started bringing up all the objections I'd expected to hear from the cabinet members. Actually, arguing with her was good practice! ] ]

"What finally convinced her?"

[ [ Well. ] ] Relena squirmed slightly, looking uncomfortable. [ [ I was, ah, a bit reluctant to use Duo's argument... you know, that heading up the Preventers and working for world peace would be the same as working towards Treize's goals, just by a different route. -Oh, and that is the official name now! The cabinet agreed about that too. So although I didn't actually mention Treize as such, I **did** point out that world peace was **OZ's** official goal, so that really she was going to be doing essentially the same job as before, and- ] ]

"-you let her draw her own conclusions." Trowa smirked. "Nice hair-splitting."

Relena actually giggled. [ [ Please! That wasn't hair-splitting, that was sophistry. And at least it did the job! ] ]

"Hn." Heero felt his mouth quirking up into an unwilling smirk of his own as Quatre leaned forwards over his shoulder, looking concerned.

"Relena... how much coffee did you drink to get through the cabinet meeting?"

[ [ Um. I'm not sure. ] ] She blinked and gazed off into space, apparently counting under her breath. [ [ Er... they kept bringing fresh jugs... ] ]

"Oh dear." Quatre turned stricken eyes towards Heero and Trowa. "The future of the world is being decided by a group of people who all have coffee jitters."

[ [ Hey! We are not all coffee addicts! ] ] Relena mock-frowned at him, visibly restraining another giggle. [ [ Most of the L3 representatives drink ginseng and guarana, and everyone from **your** colony goes through enough tea to float a battleship! ] ]

"That's just as bad!"

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"...You realise that proves my point."

[ [ **Anyway**! ] ] She flapped her hands at him. [ [ The **important** thing is that Lady Une agreed to accept the position if the interim cabinet accepted her - hmm, maybe she was assuming that the cabinet would say 'no' and only agreed because it was easier than refusing? - and the cabinet agreed, and we got the best person for the job, which is what we wanted. Now all I have to do is fight to make sure that the Preventers are actually set up as an effective force, and funded properly, and keep an eye on the legislative committees so they don't perpetrate something awful in the name of law, and sign a ridiculous amount of paperwork - oh, and wonder why, exactly, the conservatives **did** support me. Wonderful. Now that I'm over being flabbergasted by their attitude, I'm starting to wonder about their motives. Hmmm. I suppose I should start my staff looking for bear traps in the political bushes. I'll talk to you all later, okay? I'm going to need more advice! 'Bye! ] ]

"Goodb-" Quatre began, only to stop and sigh as the screen blanked. "Well. That was a new experience."

"And an interesting one," Trowa chuckled.

"Hn." Heero stood up and thrust the cookbook into Trowa's hands. "I'm going to go tell Duo his idea worked. **You** make Quatre's french toast."

- - - - - -

Heero paused just inside the glass doors, looking out over the patio to the hot tub. Duo was sitting side-on to him, scrunched down until his chin was barely above the water surface, head bowed.

_He's having a hard time,_ he thought, feeling guilty. _And so much of what's bothering him is my fault..._

Duo might be good at hiding his true feelings when he wanted to, but Heero was getting better at seeing through the masks. _I'm pretty sure he isn't having nightmares about Wufei any more, but he still worries... he still misses him. I still don't know exactly what sort of relationship he and Wufei had- __**have**__, but I do know they're important to each other. And his leg hurts, and he almost never takes his painkillers, and he hates having to wear the brace, and being at less than full ability for so long has to be driving him __**crazy**__, and..._

Heero sighed unhappily, then straightened his shoulders and put on his own mask - the nearly expressionless 'I'm not going to do anything so undisciplined as to actually **laugh**, but I am amused' Perfect Soldier look - and opened the sliding door noisily, head tilted down and slightly away from Duo as he 'concentrated' on the latch. By the time he had the door open and stepped through, Duo was looking up at him with a grin.

"Hey, Heero!" he called, waving. "Water's great, as usual. Are you coming in, or is it breakfast already?"

"I came to commiserate with you on missing the opportunity of a lifetime," Heero said calmly, allowing his not-quite-smile to widen a little.

"Oh? What did I miss?"

"Relena on a caffeine high."

"**What**?!" Duo sat up straighter in the swirling water, looking as if he wanted to leap out then and there. "Where is she? What did she do? Damn it, why didn't you **tape** her?! Talk about blackmail material!"

"She 'phoned - from her office, I think - she was burbling and hyper, we were so surprised that none of us thought to record the call until it was too late, and you're quite right; we could have sold copies of it for a **lot** of money." Heero swung himself down to sit on the edge of the tub, careful not to knock Duo's crutches out of his reach. "Apparently those late-night cabinet meetings are fuelled by coffee, tea, and guarana."

"Wow." Duo blinked for a moment, considering, and then grinned again. "Okay, the next time we know she's in a late session, we leave a message with her office for her to call us as soon as she gets out, and then we sit up and wait, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan. Are you planning to get out any time soon, or would you like breakfast in bath?"

"Ahh, I'll come inside to eat." Duo shrugged casually, but Heero caught the nearly invisible wince as he shifted his leg. "Don't want to get too pruny - I have to think of my adoring public."

"Your 'public'?" Heero twisted around to eye the (empty) back yard ostentatiously. "Since when do you have a 'public'?"

"Hey, we all have small but vocal fan clubs as well as hate groups, y'know," Duo shot back. "In this case, however, I was referring to the nice old ladies across the street who think I'm a 'poor boy' who needs to be mothered. Haven't you met them yet?"

He frowned slightly, considering. "The ones in the red brick house with all the cats on the porch?"

"That's them," Duo confirmed. "I can't take a single step onto the sidewalk without one of them just **happening** to pass by and inquire after my health, your health, Q and Tro's health, our plans for the day, our families, our pasts, our hopes and dreams, and what we had for breakfast. They'd make great intelligence operatives."

Heero's frown deepened. "I'm not sure I like that."

"Actually, I think they could come in handy," Duo disagreed, starting to lever himself up to his feet. "Sure, we're going to have to be careful not to slip out of character in front of them because if we do, they **will** notice, but we were going to have to watch that anyway. The thing is, they stick their noses into **everyone's** business, and happily gossip about what they find out, and everyone else in the neighbourhood is so used to it that they've worked out elaborate excuses and strategies to avoid having to listen to them. If we talk to them once in a while, we'll know the minute someone suspicious moves into the neighbourhood, starts asking questions, or just drives through."

"And anyone else who talks to these women will find out everything they know about us," Heero pointed out darkly.

"Sure!" Duo grinned, getting his crutches adjusted and carefully hopping himself up out of the hot tub. "They'll find out all about four nice, polite, wealthy boys who are not at all secretive or standoffish, not-" his smile slipped a little "-five nasty, skulking Gundam pilots who keep to themselves and refuse to talk to anyone. They should go look somewhere else immediately."

"Well..." Heero shrugged as he stood up, conceding the point. "You're the people skills specialist, so if you say so I'm not going to argue. It'll have to be you and Quatre who do the talking to them, though."

"I kind of guessed that. So, what's the plan for today?"

"Nothing fixed, yet. What would you like to do?"

Duo hummed thoughtfully under his breath, swinging into his bedroom through the still-open door. "Actually, I kinda feel like being lazy. What say I beat the pants off all of you guys on some of those board games 'Lena supplied us with?"

- - - - - -

"Pay up."

"Oh, man!" Duo groaned, throwing himself back in his chair as he clutched his hair dramatically. "Q, I don't believe you're doing this to me!"

"It's got a hotel," Quatre pointed out, minutely straightening one of his many property deeds and smiling pleasantly. "That makes the rent five hundred and eighty credits."

"Whose idea was it to play Monopoly, anyway?" Duo grumbled, starting to count the required amount out from his dwindling funds.

"Yours."

"Hmph. Don't spoil my complaints with the facts, man."

Duo handed over the money and glared at the board as he rattled the dice, about to roll again. His previous throw had been a double two, putting him smack into the middle of some of Quatre's best properties, and once his little motor car rounded the next corner and passed 'Go' he was going to be on Trowa's side of the board. Somehow the unibanged pilot had managed to buy every single property on the side closest to himself, and his income from that stretch was nicely compensating for the few times he missed 'Free Parking' and 'Community Chest' to land on Quatre's hotels. Quatre owned practically all the rest of the properties, plus all the railroads and utilities, leaving Heero and Duo hanging on by their fingernails with three and four properties respectively.

Counting the spaces to the next relatively safe square, Duo crossed his fingers and tossed the dice. "Come on, six-! Woohoo!" Hopping his token along to the 'Chance' square, he reached across to pick up the top card. "'Get Out of Jail Free'. Well, I guess it's simpler than lockpicks..."

"That was a double too," Trowa pointed out, passing the dice back. "One more, and you're going to need that card."

Duo shrugged, counting again. "Eh, easy come, easy go. A three would be good here..."

He threw. Two single pips stared up at him accusingly.

"Aaaah, nuts!"

Trowa helpfully moved Duo's token to 'Just Visiting' as Heero took the 'Get Out of Jail Free' card out of his limp hand and returned it to the stack.

"Like you said," Quatre said cheerfully, picking the dice up for his turn. "Easy come, easy go!"

"Man, I missed getting my two hundred creds **again**! At least I didn't have to pay the fine to get out this time."

"You have been spending rather a lot of time in jail," Heero agreed, watching as Quatre's top hat stopped safely on one of his own squares.

"Never happens in real life," Duo groused, scrunching down in his chair. "Well, okay, it happens, but I've never had to pay to get out yet!"

"Unfortunately, there isn't a 'Shoot Your Way Out Of Trouble' card in this game," Heero muttered, picking the dice up and eyeing his situation. His boot was sitting on one of Duo's properties - in fact, the only reason Duo had had enough money to pay rent to Quatre was because he'd just received some from Heero. Unfortunately, this left Heero with almost no cash, and a long stretch of Quatre's houses and hotels looming ahead of him. He threw.

"One, two, three, f- kuso!"

"I believe that's one of my railroads," Quatre informed him. "That'll be-"

"Objection!"

"-eh?" Blinking, Quatre turned to look at Duo.

"I object!" Duo repeated, drawing himself up. "In fact, I do more than object, I'm calling for an investigation by the Consumer Protection Agency, and it's my belief that they'll find you guilty of price-fixing and having an illegal monopoly on essential goods and services. You're in trouble now!"

"Duo, what are you talking about?!" Quatre protested, laughing. "This game is **called** Monopoly, for goodness' sake!"

"Not any more it's not! That's an outmoded capitalist concept, that is, totally inappropriate in today's enlightened society. You're a bloated plutocrat grinding the faces of the proletariat, you are! I insist that you divest yourself of some of your holdings. In fact, just to be safe, you should divest yourself of **most** of 'em." Duo grinned. "New house rule. The person who spends the most time in jail at the start of the game is therefore proven to be a politician, and gets to mold society. That would be me... so we're communist now, we are. Welcome to the New Era, comrades!"

"Sounds good to me," Heero grinned back, noting the renewed sparkle in Duo's eyes. "Got a red flag I can raise?"

"Don't I get any say in this?" the blond asked plaintively.

"No! Be grateful you're not facing a firing squad!"

"Does that make me a capitalist running dog lackey of the system too?" Trowa enquired. "I **am** using the scottie dog, you know."

"Oh, you're only a minor parasite," Duo informed him as he started 'confiscating' Quatre's properties and returning them to the bank. "You can probably repay your debt to society by turning some of your lands over to the People to be converted into low-rent housing for underprivileged families. Of course, that'll lower property values in the neighbourhood - pity all the rest of your land is in the same place, isn't it? Still, it's not as if anyone really needs to make a profit here in the United Gundam Socialist Republics!"

* * * * *

"Is he awake yet?"

Wufei didn't move as the half-whispered question roused him from vague dreams. _Pain_ plus _Person nearby attempting stealth_ equaled _Potential threat situation!_ to his well-trained instincts, so he found himself immediately alert and reaching out with all his senses to analyse the situation. He felt weak and heavy, and there was a dull throbbing pain down his chest, stomach and thighs, a sharper pain in his right hand, the feel of bandages and a rough blanket covering him... he didn't seem to be restrained, which was good, but the quality of the blanket balanced that out, implying cell furnishings.

Scent and sound came next, telling him of cool fresh air and woodsmoke, something cooking nearby, the quiet sounds of a large group of men at ease all around him. The sounds were a little muffled, but not as much as they would have been by solid walls. _Not a cell, then,_ he thought, _and the environment suggests a camp... the Manguanacs? Or Sally Po's resistance fighters?_

The whisper came again. "Naiya, is he-"

"No he is not awake!" hissed a female voice, quieter but closer. "Now go away and **wait**, before you wake him up yourself!"

"Sneakin' around and whisperin' is more likely to wake him up than not, y'know," a deep voice rumbled, sounding faintly amused.

"Father, **shhh**!"

_...Ah._ "He's right, actually," Wufei said, opening his eyes. His voice rasped, and speaking made it obvious that his throat was painfully dry, but otherwise everything seemed to be in working order. _Though I don't think I'll try moving much else just now._

"Wufei!"

He managed to roll his head to one side, enough to see Naiya kneeling by his low pallet, with Terrin and Cord peering in through the tent flap. Past them, he could see the Order of Torframos going about the usual camp business.

"Thank goodness!" Naiya burst out, hands hovering near Wufei as if she wanted to hug him but wasn't sure where was safe to touch. "Wufei, you've been asleep for over a day!"

"How do you feel?" Terrin put in.

"Um." Wufei frowned, considering. In pain, weak, slightly lightheaded - in fact, he rather suspected he wasn't tracking properly - and with a tired, hollow feeling in his head and chest that somehow bothered him more than anything else. "Like about five miles of bad road... which is actually better than I expected." _Certainly better than I'd be feeling now if that damned priest had had a few more minutes in which to work!_

Judging by what he'd learned about the theological side of life in this world, 'damned' was probably exactly the right adjective, too.

"Bad road...?" Naiya echoed, bewildered.

Wufei grimaced, starting to wave one hand dismissively and then abruptly deciding that it was a **bad** idea and he was going to stay still now, thank you. "It's something Duo says when he's, um, moderately banged up," he explained, closing his eyes against a fresh wave of pain. _Or when he's been trashed, to put it bluntly, and doesn't want to admit it. And make that ten miles._ "...Could I have something to drink, please?"

"Oh! Of course!" Naiya scrambled up to her feet and dove out the tent flap, pushing between her father and Terrin; Cord just swayed slightly, but Terrin staggered to one side, nearly knocked over by the force of her passage. "I'll be right back!"

"Tell Uthmar and the others th' lad's awake, too!" Cord called after her. "They'll be wanting to talk t'him 'bout that little clock!"

"She won't tell them if she thinks Wufei needs more rest," Terrin pointed out, rubbing his shoulder ruefully.

"I know." Cord grinned. "But they'll've heard **me**, now won't they?"

"You are a cunning man, Cord, and I'm proud to know you." The human hunter carefully edged inside the tent and sat down next to Wufei's pallet, peering at him worriedly. "Damn, Wufei, you look- um. Er. Ah, Cord, why did you say whispering was more likely to wake him up?"

Cord's ears tilted to comical angles at Terrin's ludicrously clumsy attempt to change the subject, but he responded politely enough as he folded his bulk into the limited space available. "'Cause whisperin' and sneakin' will wake any good warrior up faster than a tree fallin' on his tent. If someone's sneakin' **around** him, what's to say they're not sneakin' up **on** him?"

"Oh." Terrin blinked. "I guess that makes sense."

The corner of Wufei's mouth quirked up in a faint smile. "Perfect sense," he confirmed. "I can sleep through almost anything, **if** the voices and sounds around me are ones I know, and know are safe. Someone being stealthy, on the other hand, will wake me up immediately. -And so will Duo snickering," he added thoughtfully. "That's a very dangerous noise. It usually means he's either plotting something, or he's finished plotting and is now **doing** something that I'm not going to like when I find out about it."

"Such as?" Cord grinned.

"Um... drawing on my face as I sleep. Dyeing my underwear strange colours. Tying my pants legs in knots. Rigging my computer to play the Marseillaise at top volume next time I open an e-mail. Painting-"

"Rigging your what to play what when you **what**?!"

"Um... never mind. It was annoying, that's all you need to know."

Before Cord and Terrin could ask any more questions, Uthmar and Arwen were at the tent flap, closely followed by a fuming Naiya clutching a cup and jug. "There's not enough room in there for you all!" she snapped, pushing Arwen out of the way and glaring pointedly at her father. "If the Champions need to talk to Wufei, fine, but **you** two are leaving first, and any more talking can wait until after he's had a drink!"

"Yes, ma'am," the Champions chorused, straight-faced, and Cord laughed.

"Looks like we've got our marching orders, lad," he said, patting Wufei carefully on one shoulder. "We'll talk some more when you've had a rest, eh?"

"I will look forward to it," Wufei whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. _Yes... very tired._

After Wufei had had his drink and been resettled comfortably on his pallet, Naiya twitched his pillow into place, smoothed his blanket, and left - not without a parting glare at the two Champions and a promise to come back soon.

"Is it just me, or did that sound like a threat?" Arwen asked nervously, looking after her.

"I think it was definitely a threat," Uthmar nodded, scratching his beard. "Something along the lines of, 'if you're still keeping Wufei awake when I get back, you'll regret it'. We'd better keep this short. Not to put too fine a point on it, Wufei, you're not looking very well."

"Better than when you were out of your body," Arwen hastened to assure him.

"I'll be fine," Wufei insisted, dragging his eyes fully open. "What did you need to talk to me about? Cord said something about a clock...?"

"This," Uthmar said, reaching into his belt pouch. "What **is** this, and why is it buzzing?!"

"Buzzing-? Oh!" Wufei managed a short, breathy laugh, carefully taking the watch in his left hand. "It's just my watch. It's got an alarm..." His voice trailed off as he held it for a moment, waiting; then it vibrated quietly, a quick string of long and short pulses. "Ah. That's the code that tells me somebody's got into Nataku."

Arwen let out his breath in a groan, slumping backwards and raising his eyes to heaven (or at least the tent roof). "That's **all**?!"

"Well, it can be fairly important, you know."

"Oh, I realise that, but- you have no idea how much of a fuss that thing caused! People squawking and dropping it and throwing it around and looking at it like it was a snake. Myself included," Arwen admitted sheepishly.

"Heh. I suppose it **would** be fairly upsetting if you weren't expecting it." _Come to think of it, there was that time Duo got hold of an antique joy buzzer..._

"Well, now that we know what it is, we can stop fussing and let you get some more rest," Uthmar told him, heaving himself to his feet. "-Um, you can turn it **off**, can't you?"

"Oh yes. Already did it."

"Good. Don't worry about taking a while to recover," the dwarf told him firmly, patting him on the same shoulder as Cord. "We're camped, we're safe, we're guarded, and we're in no hurry to go anywhere, all right? I shudder to think what Krashnark would say to us if we let you exert yourself before you're well!"

"Remind us to tell you about what he did, later," Arwen added, following the senior Champion out.

Alone for the moment, Wufei dropped the watch next to his pillow and relaxed, lying limp. "I'm surrounded by mother hens," he muttered, eyeing one particular corner of the tent roof a little sourly. "And you're the worst of them."

_=*-! How did you know I was here?*=_ Krashnark asked incredulously.

"Quantum physics, for all I know," Wufei told him, closing his eyes. "'Night."


	33. Chapter 32

When Arwen came to find him, Uthmar was frowning up at the darkening sky.

"Dinner will be ready soon," the human Champion told him, sitting down by his side and peering up at the first faint stars.

"Hm."

"Naiya managed to tear herself away from Wufei's side long enough to cook, but she kept sneaking back to check on him, so I don't know whether it's going to be as good as usual or a total disaster."

"Hm."

"Is there a particular star that you're upset with, or are you just annoyed at them all in principle?"

"Hm. -Huh?! Oh!" Uthmar scowled half-heartedly at Arwen, then slumped back on his elbows and resumed staring upwards. "I keep coming back to how Wufei can see power."

"Well... yes, he does. He sees it, you smell it, I feel it. Why exactly would that cause you to be sitting here glaring at Silendros Orfressa's fine handiwork?"

"You forgot Sir Kieran."

Arwen sighed. "And Sir Kieran reacts as if he's eaten bad meat, yes, poor man. **And**?"

"Think about it. What do you and I and Sir Kieran have in common, that doesn't apply to Wufei?"

"...This is starting to sound like one of those trick questions Sir Terrian asks."

"It's not."

"All right then. We're Champions."

"Exactly. Wufei is only a Champion-candidate, no matter how much a certain someone would like things to be different. And sensing a god's power is an ability that only gods and Champions have. He's not a Champion, he's certainly not a god, and demons can't do it, so why can he?"

"Um." Arwen looked hopeful. "Maybe some demons can and we just never found out before? He's certainly unusual enough already..."

Uthmar's mouth quirked further, pulling into a sour smile. "I thought of that. Torframos said no. Then he just shut up and stopped talking to me."

"**Oh**."

When Cord came to call them to dinner, Arwen and Uthmar were staring up at the darkening sky together; one frowning, and one looking decidedly worried.

- - - - - -

The two Champions didn't know it, but their god was looking back at them, frowning at a scrying window he was balancing in his hand.

_It bothers me too, Uthmar,_ he thought, frown starting to slide towards a scowl. _It bothers me a __**lot**__. It's not just his ability to see power, either; it's where he's pulling his own power from! Even __**we**__ don't do that! And-_

"What's got you all knotted up like that, little brother?"

Torframos looked up and automatically smiled at the bearded, good-natured face that was trying to peer over his shoulder. "Oh... hello, Korthrala," he replied, obligingly tilting the scrying window so the Light God of Love, Hate, Passion, and the Sea could get a good look. "It's that demon."

"What, the little human one with the funny eyes?" Korthrala looked surprised. "I thought you liked him?"

"I do! ...I'm just not sure that I should," Torframos admitted.

After explanations had been made, Korthrala was looking sceptical. "So he uses wild magic, that just makes him a wild wizard, right? What's the matter with that? You've never gotten worried about Wencit of Rûm, and he's been around since before the Fall!"

"Wencit pulls his magic from the world around him, and he's careful. Wufei was getting power from the walls between the worlds!"

Korthrala looked blank.

"Oh, for-! The wall around this world, around this universe, is part of **Orfressa**, Korthrala!"

An expression of dawning horror spread across Korthrala's face. "You mean... Wufei's pulling power from **Grandma**?!"

"Yes! -And don't let Father hear you call her that, you know he doesn't like it," Torframos added automatically.

Korthrala ignored him. "But what if she **notices**?!"

"That would be my point, I think."

"Well he's gotta stop!" The older god drew himself upright, mouth firming in determination. "I'm gonna go tell him to stop."

"Ah-"

"...Hold on. Why haven't **you** told him to stop? Told your Champions to tell him to stop, I mean?"

Torframos shifted uneasily under his brother's gaze. It was beginning to look as if Korthrala was remembering his other role; God of War. "Well, at first he was unconscious," he said defensively. "Now, well, think about it, brother! Father has to know about what he's doing. There is no possible way for him to have missed something like that happening to Orfressa."

"True," Korthrala admitted. "He made her first, after all; she's his first daughter, before even Khalifrio."

"Which is why he doesn't like you calling her Grandmother. So-"

"Well, she **is**, really," his brother interrupted, distracted by one of his favourite arguments. "Father made Mother **from** Orfressa, so she's like Mother's mother, so-"

"**So**, why hasn't **Father** said anything?" Torframos almost shouted.

Korthrala opened his mouth, raised one finger, and stopped. There was a long pause.

"I know!" he said suddenly. "Let's go ask him!"

* * * * *

Orfressa shifted without moving, reaching out for HIM, then stopped; she could feel that HE was asleep again.

She reached out for THE OTHER ONE, instead. THIS ONE was further away, but somehow easier to touch...

- - - - - -

"Awright!" Duo hopped his red M&M into one of the home spaces on the Ludo board, ate it triumphantly, and scrabbled in his bag of candy for a replacement 'playing piece' to put in the Start square.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Duo," Quatre murmured, eyeing his own pile of yellow M&Ms. "If we keep replacing the pieces, how do we know when someone wins?"

"When someone runs out, of course. This also means they've eaten more chocolate than anyone else, so they **really** win," Duo said happily. "I dunno why people say this game is boring."

"Probably because most people would play by the original rules, which do not involve chocolate," Heero suggested.

"Or food colouring," Trowa put in. "Is anyone else worried by the fact that Duo's playing with - and therefore eating - the red ones?"

"Only because the shop didn't have any Halloween M&Ms, so I can't play black," Duo told him, draining the last swallow out of his glass and reaching for his crutches.

"Duo, I'll get-" Quatre started.

"No, it's fine," was the firm reply. "I'm just gonna fetch the bottle; I can do that easy enough."

"Ah... okay." Quatre subsided back into his chair, visibly suppressing sentences starting with 'Are you **sure**?' and 'Perhaps you shouldn't'. Heero was carefully paying no attention, sorting his bag of candy into ranks of different colours with movements that were just a little too precise.

"The brace will protect his knee if he falls," Heero murmured almost inaudibly as soon as Duo swung out the door. "He's capable of protecting the rest of himself. The only injury he's risking is to his pride-" Cobalt blue eyes flicked up to stare coldly at the blond pilot for a moment, then went back to studying his multicoloured chocolate army. "-which will be far more hurt if we baby him unnecessarily."

"I know," Quatre hissed back. "I just wish his definition of 'unnecessary babying' didn't include practically everything **I** consider to be 'necessary help'!"

Heero almost laughed. "And this is different to the way I feel, how?"

"Ah. True." Quatre's expression turned quizzical. "It's a bit strange, having you being the one lecturing me, isn't it?"

"As long as you don't start working on 'Mission: Duo', I think I can stand the irony."

In the kitchen, Duo was balanced precariously on his good leg as he rummaged through the fridge to find something that all four pilots would consider drinkable. Iced tea seemed to fit the bill, and the plastic bottle was even sturdy enough to survive being dropped - not that he was planning to do anything of the sort, of course, but when he felt like it he was perfectly capable of planning for contingencies, thank you very much.

The question of how he was going to get the bottle back to the table while both hands were occupied manipulating his crutches was settled by him sticking it down his shirt, wriggling slightly as the cold hit his skin. "Eep! Ooo... next time I'm just gonna grab a shopping bag," he muttered, grabbed his crutches, turned towards the door, and-

-found himself somewhere else.

"Whoa! What the- oh. Right. This is familiar," Duo said, relaxing slightly as he looked around at drifting mist and floating stones. "Still no penguins, though. Wufei? You here?"

No answer. There was an itch at the back of his neck, though, a crawling feeling as if the hair there was trying to stand on end, and he knew he was being watched.

"No big Easter Island stone faces, either," he murmured, glancing around again. "So, Krashy- er, Krashnark- what gives? Did you bring me here just to bask in the radiance of my scintillating personality, or am I gonna get to talk to Wufei again?"

Still no answer, but Duo was beginning to get the feeling that whoever was watching him was laughing at him, too. In fact-

/ /amusement/ /

-he was certain of it.

"All right, enough already! I've got better things to do with my time than hanging around in the middle of nowhere - literally - waiting for the Great and Powerful Oz to come out from behind the curtain!" Duo yelled, picking a random patch of mist and glaring at it. "I may not be a god the way you are, but I do a damn good imitation, and unless I get some explanations real soon now I **will** go Shinigami on your ass-"

/ /DELIGHT!/APPROVAL!/AFFIRMATION!/ /

"-bwuh?!"

The strength of the emotions pouring into him left Duo shaken, clutching at his chest as he struggled to breathe. Absurdly, he realised that although his crutches seemed to have vanished, he still had the bottle of iced tea down his shirt.

/ /concern/withdrawal/apology/ /

"Uhh... that's OK," Duo wheezed, straightening up. "I don't think you did that on purpose."

/ /affirmation/ /

"Right. And somehow I don't think you're Krashnark, either."

/ /affirmation/ /

Duo sighed. "You can't just come out and **talk** to me?"

/ /negation/apology/ /

"Great. Wordless Twenty Questions." Duo sighed again, rubbing at his forehead as he tried to remember everything Wufei had told him. "So. You're not Krashnark, but you are one of that lot of gods?"

/ /...affirmation.../ /

"That felt awfully tentative. Was I only partly right?"

/ /affirmation/ /

"You're a Light god?"

/ /...affirmation.../ /

"Huh?" Duo frowned, puzzled, then slapped himself. "Oh! Duh! Light **Goddess**?"

/ /affirmation!/ /

"Right, sorry. My bad."

/ /amusement/ /

"Heh. Glad to see you're not the type to take offence! You can't be Orr, then... Kontifrio?"

/ /negation/ /

"Damn." Duo flopped into a sitting position in mid-nothing, leaning back on his hands. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't really remember enough about your pantheon to keep guessing. I don't suppose you could give me a clue?"

/ /affirmation/ /

There was a ripple through the haze and nothingness surrounding Duo, the few floating rocks dissolving into fog as it passed, but unlike the last time he'd been here, the mist didn't thicken and Duo didn't begin to fade. Instead, the mist swirled and drew back further and further, thinning as it retreated until the last wisps evaporated and Duo was left staring at a surprisingly familiar view. Space.

That is, familiar if you ignored one major difference, he decided. Whenever he'd been out in space in his Gundam, after all, he'd been in orbit; the Earth had always been right there, inescapable, taking up close to a third of the view. Not now, though. There was no planet, no moon, no colonies, not even a star close enough to be called a sun; just black space, and stars wheeling around him in unfamiliar constellations.

"Wow," Duo breathed. "That's... impressive."

/ /pride/ /

"So... are you, um, I can't remember the name... the goddess that looks after stars?" _I thought she pretty much ignored humans? Er, mortals, whatever,_ Duo continued in the privacy of his own mind.

/ /disappointment/negation/ /

"Oh. I really don't get it, then."

/ /consideration/ /

/ /decision/ /

Duo's field of view began to expand, more and more stars appearing around him. It was almost like his viewpoint was zooming out, pulling away so that more of a starmap could be seen, but nothing was moving. He was seeing further and further, past the edges of the galaxy surrounding him, past a nearly starless void, to more galaxies and beyond them to more again and...

"Whoa, hey, stop! What are you trying to do, show me the whole freaking universe?!" he yelped, closing his eyes against the dizzying sight.

His vision stopped expanding.

/ /affirmation/ /

"You **are**?! Why- oh. No **way**."

/ /affirmation/amusement/ /

"You're the universe? The goddess that's the universe, I mean? Orr- uh- Orfressa?"

/ /affirmation!/ /

"But Wufei said you never **did** anything!" Duo protested.

The burst of emotion that answered that comment was rather complicated, but Duo got a very clear impression of an immense, world-shaking shrug.

"...I'm guessing that means something like 'I do when I feel like it'," he hazarded after a pause.

/ /amusement/affirmation/ /

Duo rubbed his forehead again. "Gotcha. And it's not like anyone's gonna tell you you can't, right? 'Where does the umpteen-bazillion-megaton universe sit? Wherever she wants!'"

/ /delight/ /

Giving in to the inevitable, Duo let himself flop backwards, stretching himself out. "Okay, so we've established that you're Orfressa, you can and will do stuff if you darn well please no matter what public opinion says, and today you've decided to have a friendly little chat with me. Can you at least let me know **why**?"

/ /emptiness/loss/vacancy/hollowness/NEED/ /

-and Duo wobbled sideways on his crutches, bounced off the fridge, and wound up landing flat on his butt on the floor.

Back in the lounge room, Quatre blinked.

"...Everything all right in there, Duo?" Heero called, wincing as another clattering noise came from the kitchen.

"Um- ah- I've fallen, but I **can** get up!" came Duo's voice, sounding slightly strained.

"Would you like a hand?" Trowa asked calmly.

"Nope! I've got it. Good thing I didn't get soda out of the fridge, hey? We'd be cleaning it off the ceiling..." There were more clattering noises, accompanied by a grunt of effort, and then Duo swung himself back through the doorway, semi-permanent grin looking slightly strained.

"I come bearing tea!" he announced, fishing around in the neck of his t-shirt with one hand. "Iced tea, to be precise, and believe me when I say that although there is no actual ice involved here it's damn cold on the stomach..."

As Trowa held out his glass, and Heero did a surprisingly good job of pretending that he had not, in fact, been at all worried, Quatre stared at Duo for a long moment - then blinked again, looked away, and looked back with a smile and his own glass outstretched.

_Whatever that was, Duo isn't planning to tell us about it,_ he thought, responding automatically to something Trowa said without really hearing it. _So I'm not going to ask._

_Yet._

- - - - - -

Orfressa shifted her attention away from THAT ONE again, back to the business of the universe-that-was-herself. THAT ONE was fine, unaffected by the intensity of her emotions. Not that she'd feared doing harm. THAT ONE was strong... and such a good fit for the aching hollow within her.

HE wasn't as good a fit for the other hollow, but it was near enough.

* * * * *

"Father!"

Korthrala pushed open the doors to the set of 'rooms' Orr All-Father was most often found in and poked his head in, looking around. "Father? -Oh, there you are! I wanted to ask-"

"Don't worry about it," Orr responded calmly, not looking up from the orb he was staring intently into.

"-about that demon, you know, the one... um?" Korthrala trailed off. Behind him, Torframos peered rather tentatively over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, I said," Orr repeated. "Orfressa knows what she's doing."

"But he's pulling power-"

Orr smiled, finally looking up. "Do you honestly think he could do something like that without her knowing about it from the very beginning?"

"Um- actually, yes, I did think that, but- she knows?"

"Yes, Korthrala, she knows."

"And she's not going to get mad?"

"If she was going to get mad, she would have already. Have you considered the possibility that she might think this is a good idea?"

Torframos almost choked. "But he's a demon!"

Orr's smile widened behind his beard, stretching into something suspiciously like a grin. "Ah, but Torframos... as your Gunnar would say, he has **style**."

Later, as the two younger gods were walking back to Torframos's domain, Korthrala grinned ruefully at his brother. "Father really does pay as much attention to things as the humans think he does, doesn't he?"

* * * * *

Krashnark's mental 'voice' was a strange blend of puzzlement and humour. _=*What in the umpteen hells is 'quantum physics', if you don't mind me asking?*=_

Wufei blinked a little blearily, looking up from the cup of broth he was carefully sipping. "...What brought **that** question on?"

_=*You did,*=_ the god pointed out drily. _=*Yesterday. I asked how you knew I was here, and you said 'quantum physics, for all I know', just before you fell asleep and left me wondering what in Norfressa you meant. Whatever it is, I've never encountered it, which is an unusual thing for a god to realise, you know.*=_

"Uh... oh!" Wufei chuckled. "That. I can always tell when you're looking at me, and, well... quantum physics is a branch of science, generally dealing with very very small things. So small, that anything and everything can have an effect on them, including 'looking' at them. So," he gestured vaguely with the cup, "the idea there is that if you notice that sort of effect, you can tell someone is looking. It was a joke, of sorts."

_=*...Well, if it's a joke, I don't get it,*=_ Krashnark replied. _=*You have one of these 'quantum' things with you?*=_

"Er, no, and I can't explain it any better than that. I just feel something whenever you're hovering."

_=*I do not hover. I can, however, float.*=_

Wufei nearly choked on his broth, and fixed one particular bit of 'empty' air with a withering stare, eyebrow raised.

_=*Hells and demons, you really __**do**__ know exactly where I am.*=_

"I feel compelled to point out that you aren't acting like the god I've come to know and loathe. Is there any particular reason why? Or should I start practicing my paranoid twitch?"

It was Krashnark's turn to half-choke on a laugh. _=*You have a point. I think the best way to put it is that I've come to terms with my situation.*=_

"And that situation is?"

There was a quiet sigh. _=*Essentially, that nothing I can do or say will influence you towards agreeing to become my Champion. I can very easily influence you __**away**__ from agreeing, though, so I might as well stop trying.*=_

"...I thought you came to that realisation a few days back," Wufei said slowly.

_=*Ah, no, that was the realisation that nagging wasn't going to work. You made that point quite forcefully, but that didn't mean I'd ruled out persuasion, flattery, and sheer force of personality. I was just going to be subtle about it.*=_

"Krashnark, I'm sorry, but to paraphrase Duo, I don't think you do 'subtle' very well, if at all!"

_=*Actually, I'm told that I do, but I haven't needed to for a very long time, so I may be a bit out of practice. That, and I haven't tried to use subtlety on anyone who can get under my skin the way you do. Mortals don't generally taunt gods on first meeting,*=_ the god said ruefully. _=*You seem to have started a trend, however- anyway. When you were captured by Sharna's little pets and I was cut off from you, I realised what I was risking.*=_

"A return to your previously idyllic existence?"

_=*There, see? You're doing it again.*=_

"Duo mode on autopilot," Wufei muttered into his cup.

Krashnark either didn't hear him - unlikely - or chose to ignore that. _=*I was risking losing not just the chance to take you as my Champion, but even the chance to just be with you... even if Sharna didn't kill you. Even without nagging and with whatever level of subtlety I might be able to manage, I don't think I could keep on trying to coax you into my service without you noticing; and though reluctant Champions generally __**can't**__ keep a god from coming back, I wouldn't put it past you to find a way to block me out of your mind and soul permanently. Through sheer force of willpower, if nothing else.*=_

"Is this where the flattery comes in?"

_=*No.*=_

"Just checking."

_=*You have a very... comfortable soul, Wufei. For want of a better word, I like you. I haven't __**liked**__ any of my worshippers for a very long time. I certainly don't really __**like**__ my family,*=_ he added darkly. _=*I doubt any of them would say any different about me. I am bored, and yes, I am lonely, and I want to be able to spend time with you without you having to continually question my motives. I want you to not wince whenever I show up... so trying to manipulate you into becoming my Champion is no longer an option.*=_

"But if I just happened to end up liking you, and decided to become your Champion anyway, you wouldn't say no," Wufei said in an acid voice.

_=*That is __**not**__ my motivation. I'd be lying if I said I'd turn you down, but this is not part of a cunning plan to beguile you into my clutches by pretending to give up. And I realise I can't expect you to believe that, given my past behaviour.*=_

"Hmph. I'm not going to argue with that comment."

There was silence in the small tent for a minute. Outside, the normal sounds of the camp and distant wildlife continued. Finally, Wufei shrugged one shoulder.

"So," he said, deadpan. "Krashnark Phrofro, the Dark God of War, wants to hang out with me."

_=*...If that means what I think it means, then yes.*=_

"I really hope you can manage another of those shared dreams sometime. Duo will kill himself laughing if he ever hears this."

- - - - - -

A little later, Wufei thought of something.

"By the way," he asked, shifting carefully to get more comfortable, "what was Arwen talking about yesterday? He said something like 'Remind me to tell you what Krashnark did'."

_=*...Ah. That.*=_ Somehow, Wufei managed to get the impression that he wasn't the only one shifting uncomfortably. _=*I... __**may**__ have been slightly impolite to Torframos and Korthrala on the subject of how fast Torframos's worshippers weren't rescuing you.*=_

Wufei raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the impression that there was more to it than that?"

_=*...*=_

"Krashnark?"

_=*...Uthmar and Arwen insisted I say 'please'.*=_

Luckily, giggling didn't hurt Wufei's healing cuts as much as a full-bodied laugh would have.

- - - - - -

Outside the tent, Uthmar raised his own eyebrow as he heard a quiet, one-sided conversation from inside. _Torframos? He's talking to Krashnark, isn't he?_

=*Yes... but I don't think it's anything to worry about. It might actually be a good thing.*=

How so?

=*Given that that young man actually seems to have had a positive effect on _**Sir Vaijon**__, it's within the bounds of possibility that he might actually have a civilising effect on my nephew.*=_

Uthmar snorted, grin hidden in his beard. _Normally I'd say that was impossible, but your choice of example does have impressive persuasive force._

* * * * *

Somewhere in a dark forest, there was nothing but blood and pain for a hradani who was much too far from home.

"...Brandark?" _*cough*_

He couldn't see, couldn't tell for a moment if his friend had gone down under the Navahkian armsman's sword in that last mad scramble after Harnak had fallen, but then a familiar hand touched his shoulder. He would have sighed in relief if it hadn't been so hard to breathe somehow...

"Bahzell?! Bahzell, are you- oh gods curse it all, Bahzell, don't you dare, don't you die and leave me stuck alone in the middle of some damn Purple Lord's lands! We **won**, damn it, you killed the bastard, so don't you dare give up and die on me now!"

_Ah. So that's the way it's after being, then?_

Bahzell Bahnakson, youngest prince of Hurgrum, found himself feeling unexpectedly cheerful at the prospect of his own death, and wondered how much of that was due to blood loss. It wasn't that he wanted to die, certainly not so far from his family and all he'd grown up with; but on the other hand, from the sound of it Crown Prince Harnak of Navahk had gone first, probably screaming all the way down to one of Krahana's hells like the coward he'd always been underneath the bullying façade, and that was something any man could be proud of.

_If he wasn't a champion of Sharna yet, it was only a matter of time,_ he thought muzzily, mind drifting. _And that sword of his... that was a nasty thing and no mistake. Can't help thinking I would've been dead and worse than dead if he'd actually managed to stick me with it._

'Course, he might not have managed but his men did... doesn't take a magic sword to get a body plain dead.

Ah well.

Farmah and Tala are safe, now. He clung to that thought as the darkness seemed to thicken and curdle around him, barely hearing his friend's curses and sobs as Brandark tried desperately to bandage wounds far too deep to heal. _Churnazh might chase them all the way to Hurgrum to save a live son's reputation, but a dead one? He'll cut his losses, say it was nowt to do with him, and hope for the scandal to die as quick as Harnak did. Farmah and Tala are safe._

Something about that didn't seem quite right. He almost managed a frown, puzzling it out slowly.

_Farmah and Tala are safe... once Churnazh __**knows**__ his son is dead,_ he realised eventually. _And it won't have been just Harnak messing with the Dark Gods. Once Sharna gets his poison into a country, he doesn't let go easy..._

"Brandark," he managed to choke out, through the blood.

"Don't talk, you big lout, just lie still and I'll- I'll-"

"Now don't be a fool, little man," he whispered, feeling a crooked smile lift his mouth. "We both know I'm dyin' here."

"You are **not**!"

"Stubborn as a bloody stone-headed Horse Stealer," Bahzell chuckled, and coughed again. "If y' weren't so short, little man... well. No time. You have to get to Hurgrum."

"You mean **we**, you big lunkhead!" Brandark snarled. "If you think I'm going to walk into Hurgrum, a Bloody Sword hradani strolling into a pack of Horse Stealers - and a Bloody Sword from Navahk, at that - without a nice big Horse Stealer idiot to hide behind, you can damn well think again! I'm not leaving you, so shut up!"

"You'll have to." His mind was surprisingly clear now, and the pain was ebbing away, leaving a strange lightness of feeling behind it. "Take _*kaff*_ the money. All of it, Harnak's too, he'll _*kaff*_ have a lot. Get to the coast. Wait for a ship... a Marfanger ship, they _*kaff*_ hate the Purple Lords, they won't give you up so long as they can squeeze a good passage fee out of you. Get to Hurgrum-"

"I **won't leave you**!"

"-and **tell my father**!" Bahzell reached out, blind in the dark, and clutched Brandark's shirt, feeling the ragged remains of lace under his fingers. "Tell him Harnak's dead. Tell him about that damn sword of _*kaff*_ his. He needs to know!"

Brandark's breathing was as ragged as Bahzell's, and for a moment he worried until he felt something hot and wet fall on the back of his hand. _Oh. It's sorry I am to do this to you, my friend..._

"What else do you want me to tell him?" Brandark said bitterly, voice cracking. "Tell him I left his son to die and ran like a coward for safety?"

The next cough was at least half a laugh. "Safety? Among Horse Stealers? Weren't you just _*kaff*_ saying you needed a bodyguard... little man? No. _*kaff*_ Tell him... I told you to make sure... I didn't _*kaff*_ die for nothing."

Then Brandark was saying something, but the darkness was muffling it somehow, smothering the remaining sense of his body until he whirled away into nothing, wondering if he was finally going to find out what it was he'd been looking for all his life.

- - - - - -

Orr sighed, looking through his orb at a bleeding hradani weeping over the body of his best friend. _I'm sorry, Brandark, son of Brandark,_ he thought, knowing the living hradani couldn't hear him. _A great soul has been lost from the living, and you are not the only one who will grieve. But at least you will live._

Reaching out sideways and **elsewhere**, he cupped a gentle hand around a lost spark of bewildered blue light and drew it to him. This soul wasn't one of his, exactly; but he was Orr All-father, so in some ways **all** souls were his, and he was not going to let this one wander lost as so many others had.

"Hello, Bahzell," he said gently, and smiled as the spark recoiled warily. "I'm not what you've been looking for, I'm sorry. I'm just going to look after you until he gets here."

_?_

"I promise you, he'll be worth the wait. Get some rest, now."

_!_

"Yes?"

_! ! !_

"That's hardly restful."

_!&$%^#!_

"And **that's** hardly respectful." Orr lifted one snow-white eyebrow, looking sternly at the bright blue spark, and almost laughed as it flickered warily in his hand but refused to back down. "Even if I do let you watch, you won't be able to do anything, you realise?"

_..._

Orr sighed again, but smiled behind his beard.

* * * * *

"Quatre?"

"Hm?"

Trowa sat down next to Quatre on the bed, one hand lifting to brush a curl behind his lover's ear. "You've been off in your own world since before lunchtime. Is it anything I can help with?"

"Sorry," the blond boy said sheepishly. "I have been a bit distracted. Um... I'm really not sure if there's anything to help with, actually. It's about Duo."

Trowa raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"When we were playing Ludo, and he went to get us all something to drink..."

"And fell over."

"And fell over, yes." Quatre chuckled weakly. "I... felt something."

"From Duo?"

"I'm not sure." He hesitated for a long moment. "It was like that time in the hospital, when I felt Wufei **through** Duo. Only it wasn't Wufei this time."

Trowa blinked. "Somebody else?"

"Or something. Whatever it was, it felt a long way off, and muted the same way Wufei was, but... powerful. **Very** powerful." Quatre shivered. "There was a, a **depth** to the feeling, and it sort of echoed... it's hard to explain. Whatever it was, it surprised Duo, but... he was kind of laughing, too? And he didn't mention it, so I don't know if I should ask about it or not."

"Did it feel like something we should worry about? A threat?"

"I don't think so. Duo didn't seem to see it as a threat, but... argh!" Quatre rubbed one hand across his forehead in frustration. "I don't want to pry if it's something Duo wants to keep secret..."

"But you want to ask?"

"Yes!"

"So ask," Trowa shrugged. "Just tell him you won't ask again if he doesn't want to talk about it. Even if- **especially** if he wants to keep whatever it was secret for now, it's probably a good idea to tell him you felt something."

"True." Quatre blinked. "Actually, if I don't tell him I felt it, it's almost like eavesdropping, isn't it? I think... I'll talk to him tomorrow morning, before Heero gets up."

- - - - - -

Quatre woke up with the first beep of the alarm, one hand reaching out to slap it silent before he was truly aware of where he was. Tousled head poking out from under the covers, he blinked at the display, momentarily puzzled.

_Why's it set for six forty-five? I normally set it for seven fifteen... um. Duo. Something to do with Duo... does he have an appointment or something? He's not supposed to get the brace unlocked yet... oh! Of course. Now I remember._

It wasn't in Quatre's nature to say "duh", even inside his own head, so there was just a wordless mental grumble as he scrubbed sleep from his eyes and reached for his pants. _Heero will be getting up soon, but he'll start breakfast before going out to talk to Duo, so I have at least half an hour... assuming Duo wants to talk to me._

Ngh. If he doesn't want to talk, I'm going back to bed.

When Quatre slid open the glass door from the hallway and stepped out into the courtyard, yawning hugely behind one hand, Duo was already settling himself into the hot tub. "Hey, Quat," he said cheerfully, almost hiding the wince as his healing incision slid under the water. "You're up early. What gives?"

"Mmh. Wanted to talk to you for a bit," Quatre answered, rubbing at his eyes again. _Oof. I want coffee. How in the world did I manage to get up for all those early-morning missions?_

Oh, right. Adrenaline. That was it.

"Ooooo-kay. Talk? Should I worry?" Duo asked, a little warily.

"Eh. No." Quatre waved that off, sitting down on the nearby bench and yawning again. "Uff. My apologies. No, I just want to ask you about something I think you might want to keep private, therefore I am here at this **obscenely** early hour, without coffee. And if you do want to keep it private, that's fine, I won't ask again. It's just... hm."

Duo raised both eyebrows. "Hmmm?"

"Were you..." Quatre paused, trying to frame the question. "...talking to someone, yesterday? When you were in the kitchen. Because I **felt** something, and it definitely wasn't Wufei, but it also wasn't anyone from **here**."

- - - - - -

_Oh boy._ Duo stiffened. _Damn. Stupid of me, I should have realised- if Quat felt Wufei that time, of __**course**__ he'll- damnit, damnit, how do I get out of-_

Wait. You moron. This is _**Quatre**__, not an enemy, you don't __**have**__ to get out of this._

...And if anyone's going to believe it, he will.

He'd taken a little too long to answer. Quatre's face fell slightly; then he smiled again, and started to get up. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's-"

"Nah, that's okay Quat, sit down- you just, um, kinda startled me is all," Duo said hastily. "Um. Yeah. I was, um, kinda talking to someone... well, not talking exactly, it was more like playing Twenty Questions for a while there."

Quatre blinked. "Very fast Twenty Questions, then."

"Heh. It was a lot longer from the inside," Duo grinned sheepishly. "From my end it felt like about ten minutes. Right." He rubbed one wet hand through his bangs, frowning. "Man. How do I explain this..."

"Well, to begin with... who was it?"

"Oh, sure, pick the hardest explanation first, Q-man." Duo rolled his eyes. "Well. I didn't exactly tell Heero **everything** about my dream..."

* * * * *

_=*Perhaps you should call someone to lend you their shoulder?*=_ Krashnark asked tentatively.

Wufei would have glared at him if he'd been willing to spare the energy from his current predicament. As it was, he was clinging to the nearest tent pole with a one-handed death grip, perilously close to falling over, and feeling every one of his barely-closed wounds with an entirely unwelcome clarity. "**No**."

He could literally **feel** Krashnark open his mouth to argue, pause, and shut it again. _=*...Then... may __**I**__ loan you a shoulder? Given that putting you back to bed is clearly not an option.*=_

The Chinese pilot bit off a laugh, straightening up another careful inch or two. "Seriously? You're offering to manifest, in a camp full of your enemy's servants including two Champions, just to give me a hand to walk six feet?"

_=*It's more like twelve feet, and it's not as if I haven't manifested before them for less reason...*=_

"For nagging purposes, you mean."

_=*A far less worthy purpose than giving you a hand, exactly. May I?*=_

"Krashnark," Wufei said with a wry half-smile, "think of your reputation. Think of **my** reputation."

_=*...?*=_

"You weren't watching right after I managed to get Nataku walking, were you?"

_=*No... I must have still been concentrating on talking to Torframos and Korthrala. Why?*=_

"Uthmar's already making jokes about asking you what your 'intentions' towards me are. I don't need you giving him - and Gunnar! - more ammunition."

_=*...!*=_

The mental pulse of shock and disbelief and sheer **embarrassment** was so funny that Wufei laughed, choked at the pain, doubled over, lost his grip on the tent pole and started to fall-

-only to be caught by a pair of strong hands, carefully holding him up without putting pressure on any of his wounds. Expecting to see Krashnark, Wufei looked up and discovered that his unexpected saviour was Sir Vaijon, looking decidedly worried.

"Sir Wufei! Are you all right?"

_Huh. Listen to that,_ Wufei thought giddily, controlling a wince. _The 'Sir' came out without him forcing it._ "-I'm fine," he insisted, resisting as Vaijon started to lower him back to the camp bed. "I'm **fine**! I want some fresh air, that's all."

"Ah. Certainly," Vaijon said, reversing direction and supporting Wufei upright. "If you would be so good as to allow me to assist, there are some seats by the fire. Would that be acceptable?"

_...I can hardly say no now. Damn it._ "That would be just perfect, Sir Vaijon. Thank you."

For some reason, that started an embarrassed flush on Vaijon's cheekbones. "It's I who should be thanking you, Sir Wufei," he said awkwardly, matching Wufei's slow steps towards the tent flap. "You saved my life."

Wufei quirked one eyebrow, looking up at the much taller young man. "Don't concern yourself. You'd do the same."

Vaijon bit his lip. "Ah. Well. There's the rub. Two days ago, Sir Wufei, I probably **wouldn't** have done the same if our positions had been reversed, and I believe you knew that..."

The eyebrow went higher. "You hadn't exactly kept your feelings secret, no," Wufei said dryly. _Where's he going with this?_

"And yet you saved me anyway. Twice."

Wufei delayed his response until after he'd settled onto one of the roughly squared-off logs that had been set around the camp's cooking fire, jaw clenched as the cuts on his legs protested. His emergence from the tent had definitely been noted - he and Vaijon were the subject of several armsmen's attention - but for now, at least, they were being left in relative privacy.

_=*The puppy's learning,*=_ Krashnark murmured in his mind.

_Hush, you._ Looking back up at the knight-probationer, standing awkwardly beside him, he let a trace of wry amusement show. "I don't exactly stop to consider whether or not someone who needs my sword in a melee **likes** me, Sir Vaijon. Helping you had nothing to do with our, ah, less-than-comfortable relationship at the time."

"But you would have in any case, wouldn't you?" Vaijon persisted, a strange sort of desperate urgency in his expression. "Under different circumstances, where you had all the time you needed to make the decision, even if **not** saving me would have had no negative repercussions for you whatsoever... you would still have saved me. **Wouldn't** you?!"

Wufei stared at him for a long moment... then shrugged his unbandaged shoulder, and sighed. "Yes."

"**Why**?!"

"Because you needed it," Wufei replied quietly. "I don't require more reason than that."

Vaijon let out a strange noise, half-laugh, half-sob, one hand rising to push back his golden hair. "I thought so."

A couple of the armsmen shifted, frowning uncertainly, and one eased back out of the ring of watchers, heading off at a fast walk.

_=*You'll have the Champions here in a minute,*=_ Krashnark noted mildly. _=*I think they're worried that the boy's going to do something foolish.*=_

Given his track record, I'm not surprised, Wufei thought back. _Especially since I don't think they can hear what he's saying... so all they know is that he looks agitated._

=*I wonder how many of them are planning to hurl themselves into the breach if he attacks you?*=

Hopefully none! I don't need-

"Well." Vaijon looked around at the watchers and grimaced unhappily. "I had planned to do this in private... but given that my errors were very definitely public, this is probably all to the good." And he went to one knee in front of Wufei, head bowed.

"I have erred," he said formally, hands clenching into fists. "I have disregarded the advice of my superiors in the Order, and the words of my God as transmitted to me through his chosen Champions, and allowed myself to be blind to your qualities. I have wronged you in thought, word, and deed, and I am truly sorry, Sir Wufei." He swallowed, and looked up, piercing blue eyes miserable but undeniably sincere. "I will accept whatever punishment you and the Champions think appropriate."

* * * * *

Shaking with pain and exhaustion, Brandark let himself collapse by the pile of driftwood he'd laboriously collected and doused with lamp oil. _Is it big enough?_ he wondered. _...It had better be. It's all I'm going to get._ He pushed himself up into a semi-sitting position, hearing himself whimper as the deep wound in his right thigh stabbed pain at him, and hating himself for the weakness. _Bahzell didn't whimper- he didn't- don't think about it, don't __**think**__ about it, just get this done, get the job done and then I can cry all I damn well want-_

The tinderbox was a lovely little thing, Spearman work, but all Brandark cared about right then was that it could be worked one-handed. His left hand was useless, blood-soaked bandage wrapped around what was left of it, but the tinderbox let him set a spark in shredded bark and feed it into a healthy flame.

_A Marfanger ship,_ he told himself, shielding his eyes from the light to protect his night vision. _One going west, to their island. A fast one, preferably, though I'll take what I can get... they're all fast, Marfangers like it that way..._ His mind wandered, and he brought himself up with a jerk. _Find a ship!_

Bortalik Bay and Marfang Island were both relatively close, and both centres of trade; it wasn't long before the first ship hove into sight, running lamps shining through coloured glass. _Heading west... but it's a tub,_ Brandark told himself, squinting. _Purple Lord ship. No good._

The next two ships were useless too, eastward-bound towards Bortalik Bay, the main source of the Purple Lords' power and influence; the wounded hradani continued to wait, feeding twigs and chips to his tiny flame. His leg wasn't hurting so much any more...

...then a spike of agony from his wounded hand woke him, to find himself slumped over and his precious flame guttering, nearly out. Near panic, he was about to dump a handful of wood chips on top of it when he forced himself to stop, breathing hard, and add one twig at a time until the fire filled the tinderbox compartment again. _Stupid. Stupid!_ he berated himself, good hand shaking. _What if I missed a ship? What if-_

There were running lights offshore. Green closer to him, red nearly obscured behind the long, low shape, and it was cutting through the water like a shark-

_Marfanger. Heading west. I can only do this once - please, please let this work!_

- - - - - -

On board the _Wind Dancer_, Captain Evark Pitchallow squinted up at the masthead as the lookout shouted down to the deck. "Fire on the starboard bow! Sprang up all of a sudden!"

"Beach or ship?" Master Holderman called back.

"Beach! I think-" a pause as the lookout squinted through his spyglass "-there's someone there... waving?"

"Could be just about anything," Evark muttered to his first mate. "Wreckers or smugglers, maybe."

Holderman grimaced and rubbed the base of one of his horns, considering. "Bad spot for wreckers - no reefs this far from the Bay, and nobody would mistake it for an official landing - but it's a bad spot for smugglers, too. Too open, and no streams to hide up. Let it go on by?"

"I think so," Evark started, then cut himself off as the pendant under his shirt chilled suddenly. "-Wait up." _My Lord?_ he thought, pressing one hand over the cool spot.

The halfling didn't have the sort of easy access to his God's voice a Champion would have, but as a captain-dedicate of Korthrala he could still get the occasional nudge... and he was getting one now. The trident pendant was getting colder as _Wind Dancer_ swept along the coast towards the fire, and then there was a definite **shove** towards shore.

"Drop sail and anchor," Evark ordered. "Korthrala thinks we have business with that light; we'll put a boat over."

"Right," Holderman said laconically, and turned away to start bellowing instructions to the crew.

"They've stopped waving," the lookout reported.

- - - - - -

Master Holderman was the first out of the longboat as its keel dug into the sand, short sword and belaying pin ready. The bonfire was dying down already, smelling of lamp oil and burnt seaweed, and the flickering light outlined a prone figure beside it.

"...It's a gods-damned **hradani**," one of the sailors muttered, and spat. "What's Foam Beard want with one of **them**?"

"He hasn't seen fit to let me know yet," Captain Pitchallow said dryly. "Light your lanterns and spread out, see if there's anyone else here." His pendant was as cold as a storm-sea, somehow **yearning** towards the unconscious hradani, and he doubted there was anyone else to be found; but he hadn't reached captain by taking unnecessary chances on land, so his own sword was out as he knelt by the figure and reached out to its shoulder.

"Uff. Bastard's heavy as ballast," he grunted, shoving until he could get a clearer look. "Been in a fight, too." _Handsome for a hradani,_ he added, directing the thought towards his god. _Missing fingers on that hand, missing half of one ear, bunch of cuts - wounds are fresh - hm?_ His eyes narrowed.

"Some Wild Wash brigand that got away from a Purple Lord patrol, maybe?" Holderman suggested.

"No Wild Wash hradani ever wore **that** shirt," Evark snorted, flicking one finger at the bedraggled remnants of lace and embroidery. "And he's too tall. Broken Bone, or maybe Bloody Sword, though they don't go much for fripperies either."

"This far south?!" Holderman sounded incredulous, and well he might.

"Anything's possible," the captain shrugged, and moved to brace himself with one hand on the sand as he leaned in closer - then stiffened, and lifted that hand into the light, sticky with sandy clots. "Hells, I think he's bleeding out. Check for deeper wounds, the ones I can see aren't bad enough to spill this much-"

Glittering brown eyes opened, and the hradani reached out with his whole right hand, clutching a handful of Evark's shirt along with the pendant.

"Hold!" the halfling said sharply, and Holderman's sword stopped a hair away from the hradani's back. Evark's sword was resting gently against his throat, sharp enough to shave with, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Marfangers?" he whispered, voice cracking.

"I got within arm's reach of you instead of running a mile, big 'un," Evark said blandly. "What do **you** think?"

The hradani's brow furrowed, working through that; then he nodded slightly, acknowledging that only a Marfang Island halfling would be brave - or foolhardy - enough to do that. "Passage," he said, voice faint but clear. "I want to buy passage."

"Oh, aye? And where would you be wanting us to take you?"

"Hurgrum."

The captain blinked, mental map coming up blank for a moment; then Master Holderman choked, recognising the name. "**Hurgrum**?! You want us to sail all that way north and then leagues upriver to a **Horse Stealer** city?!"

"You're Bloody Sword, aren't you?" Evark asked. "What business has a Bloody Sword with the Horse Stealers, apart from what can be delivered on the point of a blade?"

"I have to warn them," the hradani insisted, grip starting to loosen. "Warn Prince Bahnak..."

"About what?!"

The clinging hand fell away, and the hradani laid his head down on his arm like a child going to sleep. "'bout Harnak..." he mumbled. "'bout Sharna..."

And Evark's pendant gave a pulse of cold and anger that even Holderman could feel.

There was a long pause; then Holderman sighed, sheathing his sword. "He's not going to fit in the longboat," he muttered, comparing the hradani's six foot six inches with his own three foot two height.

"Then we'd best fetch the cargo skiff, hadn't we?" Evark frowned. "And the surgeon, afore he goes and dies on us."


	34. Chapter 33

"...Get up," Wufei told Vaijon quietly. "Please."

The knight-probationer flushed a darker red, but obeyed, head down.

_=*He thinks you're refusing his apology,*=_ Krashnark said quietly in Wufei's mind. _=*If that is not your intent, I suggest you say something.*=_

_Ah. Thank you._ "I accept your apology. As far as punishment goes, I can't speak for the Champions, but I require none beyond what you just assigned yourself."

The mortified blush was fading from Vaijon's face; now he looked mostly puzzled. "I... your pardon, Sir Wufei, but I don't follow."

"You apologised **in public**," Wufei explained, smiling a little ruefully. "I know how much that hurts."

"Sir Vaijon," came a quiet voice from behind him. "Sir Wufei. Is everything all right?"

Vaijon blushed again as the two Champions strolled up, looking unconvincingly casual. Cord was a step or two behind them, axe slung over his shoulder.

"Sir Vaijon was kind enough to assist me out here," Wufei told them. "He also apologised, and- Vaijon, **don't** kneel again, once was enough!"

Arrested half-way, Vaijon straightened up, coughed, and settled for bowing. "Sir Wufei has been most forbearing and accepted my apology for the wrongs I have done him. I must apologise to you as well, sirs; my faults have been most grievous, and I shall do my best not to repeat them."

The watching armsmen had been edging closer, and were within earshot. Faint but clear, Wufei heard an anonymous mutter.

"Huh. Stick's at least half-way out again."

By the way Vaijon stiffened and his ears flamed red, Wufei guessed he'd heard too.

_=*He probably hasn't blushed this much since he hit puberty,*=_ Krashnark mused, a trace of malicious humour in his mental voice.

"Well," Uthmar said, eyebrows nearly vanishing into his hairline. "A very proper speech, Sir Vaijon, and if your future actions back it up I'll be more than satisfied."

Vaijon bowed again. "Sir Wufei has also kindly said that he regards my apology as sufficient punishment to satisfy him. As for my transgressions against the Order's discipline, I await your judgement."

"Hm." Uthmar looked thoughtful... then stepped back, and nodded to Arwen, grinning. "Given that Sir Vaijon was specifically assigned to you by Sir Terrian, I believe this comes under your authority."

"Oh **thank** you," Arwen muttered under his breath, visibly restraining a glare. "...I'll think about it, Vaijon. Right at the moment, we should bring Sir Wufei up to date on what's been going on."

"Aye," Cord rumbled, one ear slanting back in what Wufei was beginning to recognise as the Hradani equivalent of a quirked eyebrow. "We've been a tad busy in the last couple of days."

_...It has been at least that long since I really paid attention, isn't it?_ Wufei mused, a little annoyed at himself.

_=*You __**were**__ unconscious for much of that time,*=_ Krashnark pointed out drily.

_Hmph._

"To cut a long story short," Uthmar said cheerfully, "the buried temple is not so buried any more, and we have prisoners."

"Not too many of 'em," Cord shrugged, "since they know the penalty for what they've done, an' less than we started with, since the dog brothers tend to be carryin' a way out."

Arwen grimaced. "Much as I hate to say it, they've saved us time. Worship of Sharna in and of itself isn't technically a hanging offence, but knowledge of and participation in sacrifices... well. Uthmar and I have the authority to judge and sentence them, which we'll be doing at dawn."

"And then we'll be leaving." Uthmar didn't look as uncomfortable as Arwen at the idea of executing their prisoners, but he certainly wasn't casual about it either. "We need to get started on our way to Axe Hallow; this has already delayed us more than I'm really happy with."

=*Indeed.*= Torframos's voice came from thin air, and everybody jumped. =*Not that I'm complaining; this did need to be properly cleaned up, and I don't see how you could have settled it faster than you did... but you will be needed elsewhere soon. **All** of you.*=

* * * * *

"Thank you, brother," Korthrala sighed. "I don't have any land-based servants near enough to handle this."

Torframos snorted quietly. "**None** of us do. Isn't that the problem? I think Lillinara has a few quiet devotees there, but no chapter house, and nobody she can really work through. You're doing better than me, really - you've at least got **one** prospective hradani Champion."

"Not any more," the older god said grimly.

"He died? I'm sorry."

Korthrala shook his head. "He's alive, and between him and my little captain I can keep an eye on the situation, but... this has changed him. He's closed off, now. I don't think he'll ever be able to hear me. He loved his friend like a brother," he almost whispered, grieving. "It was part of what made him mine. He was all passion. Now... he's all grief and hate, and it's not the sort of hate I can work with."

* * * * *

Quatre stared, eyebrows raised and a bemused expression on his face.

"I know," Duo groaned, head flopping down to rest on his arms. "It's not the most believable story I've ever come out with."

"Oh, belief isn't the problem," the blond assured him. "I believe you. I **have** to believe you, after all, or decide that I'm having hallucinations that perfectly match yours; I felt... her. No, the boggling thing is that you were perfectly calm after being pulled into some sort of mental pocket universe for a chat by a **goddess**. A goddess from another **dimension**, at that!"

"Hey, Orfressa's cool!"

"You are just proving my point here, you know. I do see why you didn't tell Heero the whole story to begin with, though. Without confirmation it does sound a bit far-fetched."

Duo grinned. "Your talent for understatement is nearly as good as Tro's talent for silence, Q. But hey, I have confirmation now!"

"Yes, you do, but... **why** is a goddess from another dimension contacting you?! Is it something we should worry about?"

Duo's grin faded. "I dunno. She couldn't exactly explain **details**, y'know, it was all emotions and Twenty Questions. She likes me, though, I got that much, and... I think she needs me, somehow."

"Argh." Quatre rubbed at his eyes. "I really should have gotten coffee first. Honestly, Duo, the 'need' part does seem like something to worry about. I do **not** want to wake up one morning and discover that you've disappeared in the night because some goddess from another dimension decided she was **lonely**!"

"Don't tell Heero that, or he'll never even let me pee alone again!"

"Don't tell me what?"

Duo's gaze shifted, looking behind Quatre to where Heero had just stepped out of the sliding glass door; then he slowly sank, until only his braid was above water.

Heero walked to stand beside Quatre, gazing down through the bubbles at his boyfriend, who was apparently trying to either drown himself or turn invisible. "Hn. Quatre? What's going on?"

"...I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I am insufficiently caffeinated to come up with anything."

"...Right." Sighing, Heero bent to grab Duo's braid, then straightened up, bringing the other pilot up out of the water. "Breakfast's ready. Coffee's on the table. And if I don't have answers in twenty minutes I'm going to be theorising all **sorts** of things, so you'd better come up with something fast."

- - - - - -

"Apparently, secrets are about to be explained, and for some reason this may cause me to monitor Duo's bathroom visits far more closely than either of us want," Heero deadpanned as Trowa walked into the dining room. "I don't suppose you're in on this?"

"Only in so far as I told Quatre to ask Duo about something that was bothering him," Trowa replied without turning a hair. "It may or may not be relevant."

"Since when did you two work up a comedy routine that uses **us** as the straight men?" Duo grumbled, hair still dripping onto the floor behind his chair.

"Since I walked in on a conversation that is probably going to need a lot of back story explained to make sense," Heero told him, passing out plates. "It's a defence mechanism. I learned it from you."

"Yay."

"At this point I think you're supposed to call me Grasshopper."

"Duo? I think you've created a monster," Quatre said plaintively.

"I didn't hear you complaining when Relena decided to be my padawan," Duo objected. "-Oh, wait, you did. Never mind."

"You have your coffee," Heero pointed out. "You have your pancakes. **Now** will someone tell me why I'm apparently going to need to develop an abnormal interest in Duo's peeing habits?"

"Never mind my peeing habits! My peeing habits have nothing to do with this!"

"You were the one who mentioned them first. **Explanations**?"

"Okay! We were going to tell you anyway!" Sighing, Duo dug his fork into his stack of pancakes and pushed his wet bangs back with his other hand. "Remember the dream I had in the hospital? The first one, where I got to talk directly to Wufei, not the one where I just freaked out about him being hurt."

"Of course."

"Well, I... didn't exactly tell you everything. I didn't **lie**, I just... okay, so I censored out some details, 'cause I figured they were too weird and if I told you about them you never woulda believed me, 'cause you woulda thought I was crazy."

Trowa raised his one visible eyebrow, smirking. "Whether or not you're crazy has nothing to do with whether or not we believe you, Duo."

"Ha ha. Anyway, Quatre felt Wufei the second time, which kinda proves I have been in touch with him, and he felt Orfressa in the kitchen, which proves she's real. Kind of. He believes it, anyway."

"...Orfressa? In the kitchen?" Heero asked.

"With a carving knife?" Trowa suggested. "Or are we not discussing Clue after all? I don't recognise that name as one of the suspects."

Duo stared at them for a moment, then turned his head to look plaintively at Quatre. "Is it this annoying when **I** do that?"

"Yes, Duo," he sighed, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "Only you've had more practice, so sometimes you're worse."

"Man, Heero, you must **really** love me. **Anyway**! You want explanations, you're getting them, now lemme finish!" Taking a deep breath, he waved his hands, groping for words. "...Argh. It was easier to explain this to Quatre, it didn't have to make logical **sense**... Okay. You know how the Doctors said some of the parallel universes in the Trousers of Time thing could have broken off early enough to have different laws of physics? Well, the world Wufei's in is kind of one of those, only it's got different laws of **meta**physics. And gods. Plural. Active ones. One of which set up the first dream so that Wufei and I could talk, and one of which was talking to me yesterday, when I fell over in the kitchen."

"...Orfressa, I gather," Heero said, perfectly calm... except that his hand was clenched white-knuckled on his fork.

"Yeah. She, uh, likes me." Duo pulled his braid over his shoulder and started tugging at the sodden end tuft.

"You can confirm this?" Still outwardly calm, Heero looked at Quatre.

"I felt it," Quatre nodded. "Her. Distant, the same way I felt Wufei, but... powerful."

"What does she feel like, anyway?" Duo asked curiously. "Besides big, I mean. You said everyone's got a flavour, what's hers?"

"Just... big," Quatre shrugged. "Cold, but not in a bad way; not emotionally cold. Lonely?"

"So where do Duo's peeing habits come into this?" Trowa asked blandly.

"You had to remember that," Duo muttered. "Uh, well, as well as liking me, she... kinda seems to **need** me. So Quatre was saying he didn't want me vanishing in the middle of the night because some goddess from another dimension decided to Duo-nap me out of loneliness, and I said don't tell Heero or he won't leave me alone even to pee. Which is where Heero came in- er, out- and heard that."

The fork in Heero's hand bent. "I don't give a damn how much some goddess **needs** you," he snarled. "We need you more. **I** need you."

"I don't **really** think she's going to grab me or anything!" Duo protested. "I don't think she can, and even if she could I'm pretty sure she'd **ask** me, not just snatch!"

"'Pretty sure' isn't sure enough."

"I, uh, guess you believe me then?"

"Of course," Heero said almost absent-mindedly, shoving his chair back from the table.

Duo blinked. _...Wow. That's... wow. Something to think about later._

"Where are you going?" Quatre asked.

"To contact the Doctors," Heero tossed back over his shoulder as he stalked out. "If there's even a chance of Duo ending up where Wufei is, I want a plan in place for how to **follow** him."

Back at the table, the remaining three pilots looked at each other.

"That's right," Quatre said slowly, thinking back. "The doctors did say they could duplicate the accident that threw Wufei out of our world..."

"Hm." Trowa stood up, pushing his nearly untouched plate away. "I think I'll go help Heero plan."

* * * * *

"_Wind Dancer_, ahoy!"

Evark Pitchallow returned the harbour master's wave from the quarterdeck as his ship slid precisely into place alongside the dock. The city of Refuge was Marfang Island's main port, and Marfanger halflings had their pride, so even the dockworkers moved as quickly and efficiently as Evark's own crew.

"Welcome back," the harbour master grinned from the dock. "Anything to declare?"

"The usual," Evark shrugged, leaning on the rail. "Light cargo, cloth and spices mainly- ah, never mind that," he interrupted himself, waving off the halfling dockworker hoisting a heavy coil of rope towards the nearest bollard. "Leave us on just light lines; we're off again as soon as we unload, so there's no point putting the heavy mooring on."

"Not taking on cargo?"

"We've got a charter, a speed job."

"Huh." The harbour master scratched the base of one horn. "Well, you've the ship for it if anyone does, Evark."

"Damn right I do," the captain agreed cheerfully. "I won't keep you."

"It's not like you need me to hold your hand, is it? Fair winds and Korthrala's waves to you!"

Evark nodded politely, then straightened up as the other halfling strode off, flexing the hand that had been clenched tight on his sword hilt, out of sight. _This is Refuge,_ he thought, frustrated. _My home port! I shouldn't have to fear enemies __**here**__!_

Cold twinged on his breastbone, under his tunic, and his hand rose to cover it as a couple of roughly dressed humans walked past; sailors from one of the Purple Lord-owned ships further down the docks. He'd felt the same twinge and an impulse to secrecy every time they'd overhauled a wallowing Purple Lord vessel on their way to Marfang Island. _Whatever's up with that hradani, you don't want the Purple Pissants finding out, do you, Lord?_ he thought, flicking a glance upwards. _I hear you. Not a word to them... which means not a word to anyone, if it could be overheard. And I'll count being made to feel an outcast in my own home city as one more reason to hate the trade-strangling, money-grubbing bastards!_

Holderman appeared at his shoulder, watching the humans as suspiciously as Pitchallow had. "We've started unloading," he said quietly. "Should be done in just over an hour."

"Good," Evark nodded. "After that, keep the boys on watch and head over to _Seaspray_'s dock, talk to Marlok and get him to take our next cargo run. Tell him I owe him a favour, promise him a bribe, let him take over the run permanently if that's what it takes; the Purple Lords will notice if we don't fulfil our contract, but if they get their cargo they won't care **who** delivers it."

His first mate snorted. "I doubt they'll be able to tell the difference."

"True. So long as they don't start wondering where we are, I don't care."

"Fair enough." Holderman looked sideways at him. "You'd be able to get a better deal out of him..."

"I'm going to be busy elsewhere. I may not be able to talk to Korthrala direct, but I know where to find someone who can."

- - - - - -

There was a temple of Korthrala to be found in every port town, large or small, and Refuge was no exception - and given the Marfangers' close relationship with the sea, it was one of the bigger and more impressive ones. It was a mixed blessing from Evark's point of view; the temple's size meant he anticipated no trouble finding a priest high enough in the hierarchy to help him, but its popularity meant he might not be able to get that priest **alone**.

Stepping in the open front doors, he dipped to one knee in a quick reverence towards the altar, then straightened, looking around. _Now, where's-_

"Captain Pitchallow?" a quiet voice said at his elbow, and he turned to see a young boy wearing the short robe of an acolyte.

"Yes?"

"This way, if you please, sir. Father Grahn is expecting you."

_...Or the person I need to find could find __**me**__. This works._

Father Grahn turned out to be an elderly priest in the robes of a mid-level celebrant, ivory horns yellowing with age against his balding scalp. The room the acolyte bowed Evark into was strange, oddly proportioned and far too large for the few small pieces of furniture in it; the ceiling was at least three times as high as normal for a halfling building, and-

-cool blue-green light filled the room as Korthrala appeared, towering above them. "You made excellent time, Captain. Well done."

"My Lord," Evark murmured, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.

"Oh stop that, we don't have time," Korthrala snorted. "My brother is sending some of his servants to Axe Hallow- well, they were going to go there anyway, but he's told them to hurry it up and he's going to loan them to this mission. **You** need to get Brandark to Hurgrum."

"Ah... Brandark, m'lord? That's his name?" Evark blinked, slowly standing up.

"Oh, right, he hasn't told you yet. Yes, his name is Brandark and he's very important- both for his message, and for himself. Look after him for me, please? I like him a lot," the bearded god said sadly. "And he's one of Chesmirsa's favourites, too."

"Yes, m'lord."

"Good. Be well, Evark, and be careful; I like you too." And the god was gone.

"Tea?" Father Grahn asked cheerfully, holding up a large mug. "Sit down, do, Captain, before you fall down; he's a bit of a shock the first time, isn't he?"

"...hhhn," Evark squeaked, sitting down. _He __**likes**__ me?!_

* * * * *

"No burial?" Wufei asked quietly, taking one last look at their abandoned camp before climbing into Nataku. Half a dozen of Sharna's armsmen, the few who had been captured alive and hadn't managed to suicide, were dangling from trees at the edge of the clearing.

Karthan shook his head. "It's written into the legal code as part of the sentence for anyone executed due to serving a Dark god. Unless there is risk of pestilence, contamination of drinking water, or something similar, the bodies are to remain hanging for a minimum of one week."

"In the middle of nowhere?" One elegant black eyebrow quirked. "I do understand the need for a display of force, but it's rather pointless if nobody is going to **see** it."

"Where there's one Dark temple, there's often more," Karthan shrugged, "and cultists travel back and forth from temples to cities - sometimes just for a shopping trip. Even evil cultists need to eat. So it's entirely possible they'll serve as a warning."

"And even if they don't," Vaijon pointed out, "we are under orders to hurry."

Wufei managed - barely - to not glare. The tall knight-probationer was practically glued to his side, a circumstance that wasn't likely to change for a while. _He has apologised,_ he reminded himself. _He's behaving much better, so far... but that still doesn't mean I like the idea of him being assigned to serve me!_

_=*You have to admit it's an appropriate punishment,*=_ Krashnark said mildly in his head. _=*Poetic, even.*=_

_That doesn't mean I have to __**like**__ it! I prefer to do things for myself, I don't __**need**__ a servant!_

_=*It's only until you're healed,*=_ the god pointed out, _=*and he owes his Order extra service and obedience as penance for his disobedience. He might as well serve it with you. He won't feel that he's regained his honour otherwise. __**And**__,*=_ he added, cutting Wufei's next retort off, _=*he can't hover at you during the march, since you'll be in Nataku.*=_

_...Hmph. You have a point._

_=*I'm tempted to say 'of course', but I'm working on not being smug.*=_

Wufei snorted, and Vaijon looked at him inquiringly. "Sir?"

"Nothing. Just a funny thought."

"Ah." A pause, and then Vaijon cleared his throat tentatively. "Are you certain you are healed enough to travel, Sir Wufei?"

"I healed a lot overnight," Wufei said. _And the dreams I had make me suspect I had the link to Karthan open, so I may have been accidentally using him as a 'template' again..._ "Plus it's not as if I'll be marching on foot with the Order."

"True, sir."

"Sir Vaijon, would you do me a favour?"

"Of course, sir!"

"Stop calling me 'Sir'. **Please**. Just 'Wufei' is fine; I'm not a knight, and I'm definitely not used to being 'Sir'ed every time I turn around."

"Er." Vaijon looked conflicted. "But you are a prince, s- um."

"In another world," Wufei pointed out. "It hardly matters here, and even if it did I would much rather be called just 'Wufei'."

"I can hardly call you by your bare name while you continue to call me 'Sir Vaijon'!"

Wufei eyed him dryly. "I'll stop if you will... Vaijon."

"...Very well. Wufei."

_Excellent. One annoyance fixed. Now I just have to wait until I can stop walking around wearing nothing but pants and bandages._

- - - - - -

"Karthan?"

"Hm?" The dwarf looked up from his position seated next to Wufei's chair inside Nataku.

"You didn't wake up this morning with... cuts, or anything hurting, did you?"

"Nope. Not a scratch. Why?" he asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.

"If you were dreaming about riding on a cart that was travelling through a tunnel large enough for Nataku to walk along, I had the link open. And as I told Vaijon, I healed quite a bit last night, so..."

"You thought some of it might have transferred over?" Karthan shook his head. "No; I **was** dreaming that, and I suppose you were probably using the link to heal, but you didn't harm me."

"Good," Wufei muttered. "That's a relief."

"I would have mentioned waking up with sudden knife-wounds, you know," Karthan said sarcastically. "Not being completely oblivious to the fact that that's not **normal**."

Wufei snorted. "Forget I asked, I wasn't thinking. You sound like you're channelling Duo."

"I was thinking Gunnar, actually. Duo sounds like fun."

"Oh, he is." Wufei grinned. "I try not to admit that in public, though."

"I saw a little bit, that first night we had the link," Karthan admitted. "You dreamed about your friends. He does seem a lot like Gunnar... though I've never seen Gunnar throw food. I'm sure he's **thought** about it."

"Uthmar did say that Gunnar talking was more worrisome than Gunnar fighting. That sounds very like Duo. He's deadly in a battle when he needs to be, but he'd much rather taunt his enemies, make them lose their tempers, and leave them completely incapacitated but unharmed while he skips off with whatever he came for. And I do mean **skip**," Wufei added. "He danced his Gundam off one battlefield while singing a song about pigeons."

Karthan snorted. "Definitely Gunnar's style. I'm not sure whether a meeting between those two would be hilarious or terrifying."

"Both," Wufei said definitely.

* * * * *

Yanathor's face was impassive as he watched the 'faithful' trickling in to the hidden temple's main chamber, but if his expression had matched his mood he would have been grinning like a loon. Years of planning and preparation were finally beginning to pay off.

_It would have taken much longer to get to this position if I'd stayed in Fiendark's priesthood,_ he mused, nodding regally as his underpriests bowed. _Decades, perhaps... assuming I could have stabbed my way to the top without having someone else take me by surprise some dark night. Fiendark does so enjoy watching his worshippers scramble for position. And then, even at the very top, even if I'd made it to Archpriest, I still would have been under the god's thumb. Much better to be a temple High Priest under a god that never speaks! I can run things to please myself._

_So... time to start really putting my stamp on things._

The new altar hadn't been easy to obtain. Getting it made had been the easiest part; it was hardly a complicated design, and Yanathor had been able to find an unscrupulous stonemason to carve the pattern he remembered from his time as an acolyte in Fiendark's service. Once it was completed, though, getting it into the city and to the temple had been tougher. Any guard who got a clear look at the pattern of grooves and chain attachment points on the slab of black granite would be able to identify it as a sacrificial altar immediately, and no amount of bribes would cover **that** up. Not even here.

_If I'm to cement my grasp on their minds - make it impossible for them to even think about betraying or defying me - they have to damn themselves along with me,_ he thought coolly. _They have to do things that will have their own neighbours, their own __**families**__ calling for their blood if they're found out. Until now, they've done nothing irretrievable; even if they were exposed as worshippers of a Dark God, the general opinion would be "at least they picked the best of a bad lot". Some people might even respect them for their choice. After tonight... that won't be true any more._

Still smiling inwardly, Yanathor, the human High Priest of Navahk's secret Temple of Krashnark, lifted his hands and stepped forward to call the assembled hradani to worship.

- - - - - -

With an irritated shake of his head, Krashnark flicked his fingers and dismissed the scrying window he had been watching Nataku's progress through.

_He can tell when I'm watching him,_ he told himself, pushing to his feet and beginning to pace. _He's actually got a few hours to __**relax**__ now, with that golden-haired twit unable to annoy him and the dwarf to talk to. He needs some peace and quiet, and that means peace from me too! I don't want to get him annoyed with me again..._

_If he wants to talk to me, he'll call. If he __**needs**__ me for some reason, I'll feel it._ The warm-spice-green-heat of Wufei's soul was a taste at the back of his mind, gently radiating, somehow calming, and Krashnark closed his eyes for a moment, savouring it. _Hells. It's been a long time... I had a dozen Champions at once, sometimes, and I chose my priests from the worshippers who could hear me the best. But then it all soured, somehow, and I stopped listening._ He snorted, frowning. _Which lost me prayers, and power, and nearly lost me Wufei._

Absent-mindedly, he lifted one hand and started to sketch out a scrying window again, then realised what he was doing and stopped. _Don't be an idiot! Do something __**useful**__ - like finding out exactly how much power I have to work with now, and working to increase it so I don't run out when I need it again!_

A moment's concentration, shifting how he 'looked' at things, and several clots of his own red-glowing power made themselves known; he ignored the denser cluster to the south, for now, and peered closer at the scattered northern ones. _Hm. Fewer than I remember, but still reasonable, I suppose. The rituals to set up and maintain consecrated ground only need a halfway competent priest calling on me, after all; they don't require me to actually answer or even notice the- huh. I don't remember __**that**__ one._

'Looking' closer, he poked a mental finger at the weave of power and huffed scornfully, almost laughing. _I think this one was cast by an only quarter-competent priest. It's new, and feels like it's been reinforced recently, but it's fraying already. Where __**is**__ this? Hradani lands? What are they up to?_

Reaching out again, he opened himself to **listen**, touching the weave of power to bring any prayers from within it up above the gentle background surf of minds calling on him. There were more than he'd really expected, quick unformed flashes of _need_ and _want_ and _fear_ from skirmishes across the continent, most not even shaped into words-

_~give me strength~ ~lend me courage~ ~let me kill this bastard~ ~power to my sword arm~_

-and then he focussed properly on the new temple, and felt the storm of emotion raging within it.

_~this is wrong!~ ~killing in battle is one thing~ ~Lord, is this really-?~ ~foul, no, I won't~ ~can't be right~ ~power!~ ~someone will stop~ ~I won't~ ~PLEASE GODS NO OH NO PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS-~_

- - - - - -

Things weren't going nearly as well as Yanathor had hoped.

He'd thought he'd prepared fully. He'd groomed his hradani congregation with sermons and exhortations about the power and prestige available to those who worshipped the Dark gods **properly**, dropped dark hints about what form that proper worship took, practiced verbally whipping them into a frenzy - **that** part had been easy - where they should have roared approval of whatever he did. Everyone knew what **true** Dark worship meant, after all, it wasn't as if they could honestly plead ignorance, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise... and all the time he'd been using the little trickles of power he could get from the rituals to **nudge** them his way.

Judging by his experience with human worshippers, they had been ready! They hadn't even flinched at animal sacrifice, and that was always a hard line to get people to cross. By all the indications, they should have been willing to cut the throats of their own mothers if he demanded it! They'd been bellowing the responses to his prayers, the new, bloodier prayers he'd composed himself, they'd been eager for the sacrifice, the air was so thick with bloodlust he could practically **taste** it...

...and then his acolytes dragged forth a bound and gagged hradani girl instead of the dog or pig they were expecting, and the mood had chilled in an instant. Shoulders had hunched and ears had gone flat all across the chamber, and for a moment the bloodlust had focussed on **him**.

He still had a hold on them. He'd turned on them and berated them for cowardice, jeered at their weakness, and they'd slowly settled. This was **Navahk**, after all, where the Prince held power through fear and force and weaklings died if they were lucky; if you weren't cruel you were seen as soft, and the soft couldn't last. Still, the first muffled wail from the girl as he'd begun to cut had brought their ears down again.

_They would have broken right then if I hadn't left the gag in place. Damn them!_ he thought bitterly, able to feel the reservoirs of life and power still untapped within the sacrifice. _I've barely tasted her potential. She could last __**hours**__, give me a store of power to use to sway their minds further, but if I draw this out any longer they're going to break. How did I misread them this badly?!_

_Enough. Kill her now, take what energy I can from her death, and use it to cow them. I'll still achieve one of my aims, at least; once they've participated in a sacrifice, even an abbreviated one, they're condemned by law and I'll have them by the throat._

The human acolyte holding the small tray of knives (not nearly as wide a selection as Yanathor wanted, but he had plans to expand it) was doing a good job of hiding the tremor in his hands, but his eyes were wide and ringed with white, flicking back and forth between his High Priest and the congregation. The responses had almost stopped, only a few voices chanting along with the underpriests, and there was a rising murmur, almost a growl. Dropping the thin flensing knife he'd been using onto the tray, Yanathor seized the largest blade and raised it above his head, aiming to strike directly at the girl's heart.

Power and **rage** blasted him, burning, and he dropped the knife and fell to the floor as a red-blazing figure appeared at the head of the altar.

- - - - - -

"Just what in the name of all My sister's hells do you fools think you're **doing**?!"

Krashnark's anger was a nearly physical thing, filling the underground chamber and pushing at the walls until dust and grit fell from the ceiling. "How dare you? This is **not** My worship. This has never been the form of My worship!"

The robed human at his feet flinched, feebly whimpering something about "honour" and "veneration"; Krashnark focussed his gaze on the man, examining his soul and crushing him into silence beneath the weight of his attention. _Faugh. Not even a trace of an alignment to me, no alignment to __**anyone**__ - why would he even become a priest in the first place? Robed as one of My __**high**__ priests!_

_...My own fault, I suppose. Without me selecting the ones I want to serve me, it makes sense that the greedy ones would creep in,_ he thought grimly.

Movement to one side caught his eye, and he turned to look. All the mortals in the chamber had reacted instinctively to his arrival and the force of his presence, going to their knees or even down on their bellies, but one of the hradani was struggling to his feet. "Your pardon, Lord," he choked out, managing to lift his gaze to Krashnark's chest. "We thought- we knew it was wrong, but- we'd followed him too far, and it was hard to stop. We- I think- I **hope**, we would have stopped him, but-"

With an effort, Krashnark controlled his fury, drawing his power back until the assembled mortals could breathe freely again. "You have the opportunity to redeem yourselves in My sight," he told the hradani coldly. "I reject him. I repudiate **all** those here robed in My colours. They are no longer under My protection - in truth, they never were - and I condemn them for their offences against Me." His voice darkened.

"I'm sure you know what to do."

The five human ex-clergy and the two Navahkian acolytes never had a chance to run, as more than forty hradani gave themselves to the Rage and fell on them like wolves.

- - - - - -

Breathing hard, Akar turned from the ruin of the last acolyte and looked at Krashnark. The last fading remnants of the Rage were sputtering out, sparking along his nerves, and this time when he tried to face his God he could look him in the eyes.

Krashnark was leaning on the black altar, arms folded, seeming almost casual now that the smothering blanket of his anger had lifted from the room. The sacrifice - the girl - was huddled at his feet, clutching the rags of her skirt around her shoulders, and Akar dropped his gaze and went to his knees again as the shame returned. _Why didn't I speak up? Why didn't I refuse? If just one of us had said something, done something, the rest of us would have followed- why __**didn't**__ I?_

By hradani law, by bone-deep hradani **instinct**, women were to be protected. Immune to the Rage, they were lorekeepers, lawkeepers, rememberers of what scraps of oral history their persecuted race had managed to cling to in the decades immediately following the Fall of Kontovar. Even in Navahk, assault on a woman was the only crime that could not be excused by the Rage. Black Churnazh and his sons might not care, but even they had to hide their crimes instead of daring their subjects to object.

_So why didn't we __**stop**__ him?!_

"Even an incompetent priest can influence the minds of his congregation," Krashnark said darkly, and Akar jerked as he realised the god was answering his unspoken question. "Even without Me paying attention, without Me deliberately lending him power, he had enough to... **push** you towards his way of thinking." White teeth glinted as he grinned nastily. "He badly underestimated hradani, though, if he thought you were sufficiently under his control to agree to **this**." One hand reached down to gently brush the girl's bare shoulder, and she leaned into the touch, head against Krashnark's knee.

_=*Look at me,*=_ Krashnark's voice said insistently, somehow **inside** Akar's head, and he jerked his gaze up, wide-eyed. Three or four other hradani across the room were doing the same, ears coming up.

Akar cringed inside as his god's eyes looked at him, through him, but he couldn't turn away. He was being measured, and he was sure that he was failing some test, not meeting some standard that he couldn't even imagine... but Krashnark smiled.

_=*Will you serve?*=_

_Lord!_ Akar swallowed hard. _I'm not good enough- I don't know how-_

_=*I don't need __**good**__, Akar,*=_ Krashnark replied. _=*I need __**effective**__. I need someone who can hear me, and who is willing to do as __**I**__ please. I want a priest who will learn, not one whose only thought is for his own power and advancement; and for a change, I'd like one who will carry My banner forward into battle, instead of staying behind the lines.*=_ The mental voice gentled. _=*There's someone I'd like you to meet, later. I think you'd like him. In the meantime... will you serve?*=_

_...If you want me, Lord. I will._

* * * * *

Trowa walked into the dining room and stopped, blinking at the apparent blizzard of papers that had struck. White and yellow pages were scattered across the table, some stacked, others laid crosswise between piles or lying at random angles; the carpet was slowly disappearing under crumpled rejects, and Duo and Quatre were at either end of the table, scribbling madly on legal pads.

"Did I miss the ticker-tape parade?" he inquired mildly, reaching out to pick up one of the pages.

Quatre's hand slapped down on top of it, keeping it in place. "It may not look like it, but these are all organised," he said, still writing. "Don't mess up the placement before we get it all into a spreadsheet."

At the other end of the table, Duo tore the latest page off his pad and flicked it onto the mess, seemingly at random; then he stretched over to grab a different page, and began adding to the lines already there.

"...I see," Trowa blinked again. "Do you need more coffee, or would that be counterproductive?"

Two hands held mugs out to him without either boy looking up.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Returning a few minutes later with fresh caffeine, Trowa leaned over to eye the pages without moving them. Seemingly-random scrawls (Duo's handwriting) and neat printing (Quatre's) met his eyes.

"Rechargeable batteries," he murmured, reading. "Solar panel chargers. Extra ammo, underlined six times. Krugerrands, retain minimal operating funds, precious stones... concentrate on smaller brilliant cuts, not large, not cabochon... hacksilver- hacksilver?"

"Chopped-up bits of silver used as currency," Duo told him, not looking up. "Vikings and the old Rus used them, paid for stuff by weight and cut bits off to make change. They started out breaking up looted Roman plates and cutlery, but later on some of 'em wore special jewellery, armlets and coiled bracelets and things they could cut the ends off if they needed funds."

"Did you know the word 'ruble' is descended from the verb 'rubit', 'to chop'?" Quatre added.

"I did not know that."

"Neither did I until I asked Duo what hacksilver was half an hour ago," Quatre murmured, hiding a smile.

"So I paid attention to **some** bits of our history classes," Duo snorted, glancing up long enough to stick his tongue out at them both. "Besides, history is interesting. And useful right now."

"Useful for what?" Trowa asked, gesturing to the literary snowdrift. "What are you two planning?"

"What we're going to take when we go to the world Wufei's in." Quatre's tone was perfectly matter-of-fact.

"'When'?"

"Well, duh," Duo muttered. "Heero may be planning for 'Mission: If Duo Gets Godnapped', but we figure, why wait? We already have someone to go after. Besides..." He looked up again, blue-violet eyes uncharacteristically serious. "Quick question, answer without thinking, whatever pops into your head: what would we end up doing if we stayed here?"

Trowa opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, then lifted one finger. "Join the Preventers?"

"You had to think about it," Duo pointed out. "And really, why? Doing what, exactly? Do they **need** us? Us in particular, that is, our abilities, not just warm bodies to fill uniforms."

"They'll need mech pilots," Heero's voice pointed out from the door behind Trowa.

"They've got a thousand," Quatre noted. "And they don't need **Gundam** pilots. In fact, they don't need Gundams."

"What do you want to bet they demand we 'decommission' them?" Duo asked, eyes glinting. "Are you willing to hit another self-destruct button? Scrap Wing and Heavyarms? 'Cause I'm sure as hell not doing that to my buddy."

"I myself would... ah... 'strenuously resist' any order to dismantle Sandrock," Quatre chimed back in, voice suspiciously calm.

"Face it, guys, we don't fit here any more." Duo was grinning now. "Our skills aren't just obsolete, they're dangerous. Frankly, I don't **want** to join the Preventers; it's not my style. But if we **don't**..."

Quatre picked up the thread again. "We'll be a threat. We'd have to go into hiding to avoid surveillance, supervision, you name it; but then they'd be even more worried about what we might be up to. I could evade that by taking over WEI and becoming a good corporate front man, but **why**? My sisters are doing an excellent job, and who's going to take a seventeen-year-old CEO seriously? Unless I lean hard on my 'ex-Gundam Pilot' credentials, which would just feed the fears I theoretically went into WEI to appease."

"And again," Duo grinned, "he doesn't want to."

"Allah, no," Quatre muttered. "Early mornings, eighteen-hour days, legal tangles, board meetings that go on for six hours, you're not allowed to shoot your problems... that would **suck**."

Duo beamed. "Q-bean, I'm so **proud** of you! You've been paying attention."

"Just because shooting problems is not my first solution, doesn't mean I don't like having it as an option."

Trowa and Heero looked at each other. Trowa quirked one eyebrow. The corner of Heero's mouth twitched up a millimetre.

"Write down 'extra cores for Wing's beam sabre'," Heero noted, turning to leave.

"Fuel for Shenlong's Dragon Fang," Trowa pointed out, continuing on to whatever he'd been going to do when he first entered.

- - - - - -

Much later, Duo was hauled out of sleep by the ringing of his cellphone. Groaning, he pawed at his bedside table, squinting at the glowing numbers on his alarm clock. _One-thirty? For the love of little pink elephants, who the __**fuck**__ is calling me now? It can't be a mission. It had sure as hell better __**not**__ be a mission!_

Blinking to bring the caller ID into focus, he groaned softly. _Relena? She'd better be calling me to report her own kidnapping or something..._

"'Lena?" he mumbled into the phone, scrubbing his free hand across his forehead in a probably futile effort to clear his head. "What are you-"

[ [ Duo? Duo, I'm sorry, I had to call you, I couldn't think of who else to talk to and I need to talk to **somebody**, I can't- I need to, to, I don't know, I'm sorry- ] ]

"'Lena, you're babbling," Duo informed her gravely. "First things first. Are you currently being kidnapped, held for ransom, having a gun pointed at you, in a building with a bomb threat or anything like that?"

Relena gulped audibly, getting herself somewhat under control. [ [ No, I- no. Nothing like that. ] ]

"Cool. Just wanted to make sure. Now that we've got that out of the way, 'Lena, honey, it's oh-dark-hundred! It's not even **sparrowfart** yet! I've been in bed for about fifteen minutes, I just dropped off, I was starting up what looked like a pretty good dream and if you don't have a **damn** good reason for calling me right now I **will** tell you all the kinky details!"

[ [ ...I'm sorry... ] ]

_Aw man no, don't cry, you'll make me feel bad._ "Argh. Scratch that. You must have a good reason, you're not the sort of person who drunk-calls their friends from a club just so they can scream 'Woooo~!' down the line and hang up. I'm not mad, 'Lena, I promise, I just don't have my brain on straight yet, okay? What happened? "

[ [ _*sniff*_ I **am** sorry, Duo, I didn't even check the time before I dialled you. I just... this is ridiculous, I don't know where to start! ] ]

_Ha. Been there._ Almost against his will, Duo felt himself starting to grin as he flopped back into his pillows and relaxed. "Take a deep breath, hold it for a count of five," _'cause you sound like you're about to hyperventilate,_ "let it **all** out, get it straight in your head, then go. I'll wait."

[ [ _*sniff*_ Okay. ] ]

Waiting for Relena to speak again - he could hear her obediently doing the little breathe-hold-sigh exercise - Duo heard his door swing a little further open and a shadowy figure leaned into the room. Duo waved, then gave a thumbs-up, and Heero nodded and faded back.

[ [ Okay, ] ] Relena said, sounding more under control. [ [ I had a lot of meetings and conference calls today. They went on pretty late, and after the last one my secretary told me Lady Une had called and requested I 'screen her after I was done, no matter what time it was. That sounded urgent, and she's already setting up the Preventers while finishing up OZ's disarmament, it could have been anything; so of course, I did. ] ]

"As you would," Duo muttered, stifling a yawn.

[ [ Lady Une was... acting a bit strange, I thought. At first she was talking around the subject, telling me about how she's been personally visiting bases that are being decommissioned, and sometimes she needs to counsel the soldiers. A lot of them have no idea what they can do now, where they can go, what's going to happen to their families and so on. She's been given quite a lot of discretionary power in the interests of getting it all sorted out quickly and neatly, so she's actually used ex-OZ funds to finance short-term assistance and housing for decommissioning soldiers. She told me it'll help keep them out of trouble, ] ] Relena giggled a little, then sobered.

"Well, it will," Duo agreed. "Leaving a bunch of people with military training at a loose end with nothing to do and nowhere to go is just asking for trouble." _Ooh, déjà vu __**and**__ irony. Nice combo._

[ [ I know. She was talking about that, and went on to how she visited a base today. Specifically, the base hospital. A lot of the pilots who survived that last battle are being looked after there, and... ] ] She gulped hard. [ [ And... so is my brother Milliardo. ] ]

Duo's eyes snapped open. "Your **what**?"

[ [ My brother. ] ]

"I didn't know you had a brother!"

[ [ **Neither did I**! ] ] Relena almost shrieked. [ [ I mean, I knew I **had** a brother, but I thought Milliardo was **dead**! For, for **years**, he's been living under an assumed identity, and he believed Treize, believed in his goals, so he joined OZ, and- and- ] ]

Sitting up and swinging his good leg out of bed, Duo snapped the bedside light on and leaned over, fumbling for his crutches. "And what? 'Lena, this is good, right? I mean, ow, no contact for years, that's bad, but-"

[ [ Duo, he asked her not to tell me! He said- ] ] She gulped again, obviously trying not to cry. [ [ -there's too much blood on his hands, he said he doesn't **deserve** to be my brother. He told her he's planning to just disappear, take another new name and disappear, and- I don't want him to, I want my brother **back**, but, I don't know, do I have the **right** to stop him? What if- ] ]

"Hey, whoa, no," Duo interrupted. "What we do now is, your friend Duo goes to talk to your brother while he is conveniently stuck in hospital, and tells him to cut that shit out because his sister loves him and doesn't care. And then if he's still enough of a twit to go skulking off into the sunset being all emo and alone, we may just track his silly ass down together and slap him upside the head until he gets the idea he has a **family**, all right? What name is he admitted under?"

[ [ Zechs Merquise. ] ]

Duo fell out of bed.


	35. Chapter 34

_*THUD!*_

"Your brother is **Sexy Zechsy**?!" Duo's voice yelped, loud enough to be clear in Heero's room.

_What just happ- __**Zechs**__?_ Heero doubled back through the bathroom to Duo's room, one hand automatically reaching for a gun he wasn't carrying.

Duo was sprawled on the floor, right leg sticking straight up over the edge of the bed, staring incredulously at his phone; then he yanked it back to his ear, listening. "I called him Sexy Zechsy. Look, it rhymes and he **is**, okay? I don't know how he looked back when you last saw him, hon, but right now your brother is an utter **babe**. OZ coulda got a few thousand extra female recruits if they'd just put him on a poster or two."

On reflection, Heero had to admit that Duo was probably right. _Wait a moment. Duo's talking to Relena... Zechs is her brother?!_

"Okay, 'Lena, this is- look, you can tell me off for the nickname when you see me in person, 'kay? Go get some sleep if you can, and I'll see you for breakfast. Eight o'clock, clear your schedule for at least the morning 'cause we're gonna be busy." He glanced up at Heero and gave a sudden, distracted grin. "Heero's cooking, so you're in for a treat. -Yes he does, and he's an **awesome** cook, trust me. G'night hon, see you then."

"Duo, what have you just gotten me into? What's this about Zechs? And do you need a hand there?"

"Ah, yeah, thanks Heero," Duo said, appearing to notice his position for the first time. "You were gonna make breakfast anyway, weren't you? So I haven't committed you to anything extra, you just need to cook a bit more. Turns out Zechs's real name is Milliardo and he's Relena's brother, who woulda thought?"

Heero thought about that for a moment as he carefully helped Duo disentangle himself from the sheets and stand, then shook his head. "There isn't much of a resemblance, is there? Well, eye colour, but that's not so unusual; Quatre's are nearly the same."

"Yeah, you're right. I mean, their faces are totally different shapes, and the hair... both long and straight, but Relena's sort of a honey blonde and Zechs is platinum. Either he bleaches or he had one hell of a shock when he was younger."

"And went white?" Heero snorted. "You might as well assume Relena dyes hers."

"Nah, the tabloids woulda spotted that by now," Duo grinned. "Wow, though."

"No kidding. How's the knee?"

"Ah, it's fine. This is the first and probably only time I'm glad to be wearing a brace, though!"

Heero smirked. "It does have a use. So..."

"So?" Duo raised an eyebrow as Heero trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"So Zechs did survive. When we didn't hear any more about him after that one report before OZ surrendered, I wondered if it had been false. I... think I'm glad?" he said quietly, almost puzzled.

"Yeah." Duo's grin softened. "It's not like we wanted to kill him, is it? We didn't **want** to kill anyone... okay, a few people maybe deserved it, but most of 'em were just on the other side. Hell, even Une's not all bad, and I hated her guts for most of the war."

"Says the person who was the first to suggest **hiring** her," Heero muttered.

"Yeah, so I like giving second chances. I told you it was a crazy idea at the time."

"Yes you did, but your crazy ideas work more often than they don't." Heero glanced over at the clock again, and winced. "Well, if Relena's going to be here at eight, and I assume you still want your morning soak in the hot tub, I suggest we try to get some sleep."

"'Try' being the operative word," Duo muttered. "Damn. You know, finding out he's Relena's brother is going to spoil the whole Sexy part of Sexy Zechsy..."

* * * * *

"How's he doing?"

The ship's surgeon made a face as he turned away from the unconscious hradani. "Not too good, Captain. Mind, it's practically a miracle that he's still alive, so in some ways he's doing wonderfully. I'd heard hradani were tough, but this is ridiculous."

Evark frowned, one hand rubbing at his tunic over the pendant hidden beneath in the habit he'd picked up over the last couple of days. "He needs to live, Chihar, and I get the impression Korthrala won't be too happy if he's crippled either."

"Well, Korthrala's going to have to get used to the idea," Chihar snapped. "...Begging your pardon, Captain, but this is frustrating as all the hells. I should have realised how badly off he was and asked you to get a healer of some sort, a priest out of the temple maybe, but- well, I didn't."

"Given that we need to keep him a secret, getting a healer-priest on board to tend him might have ended up getting him killed anyway," Evark muttered. "I wish I knew more about what's going on."

"He'll live long enough to tell his story, I'm sure enough of that," the surgeon shrugged. "Beyond that? I don't know. His wounds are closing fast, and like I said, he's tough; he survived losing enough blood to kill three humans. If anything, though, that chop to his leg closed **too** fast. I'm not entirely sure it drained clean before it closed up, and he'll never have much use of that leg even if it did."

"...I just need to make it to Hurgrum," a cracked voice whispered.

Chihar cursed under his breath as he whirled back to the makeshift pallet on the floor, and Evark's eyes widened as they met the hradani's gaze. He - _Brandark,_ Evark remembered - was lying still, face pale and drawn, but his eyes were glittering with fever... and something more.

"Here, Longshanks," Chihar muttered, hands gentle as he raised Brandark's head and held a cup to his lips. "Get this down you, and we'll see about something a bit more substantial if you keep it down."

Brandark drank obediently, but never looked away from Evark, and his mouth quirked into a humourless smile as the cup left his mouth. "Just get me to Hurgrum," he repeated, voice clearer. "Get me there, and give me an hour to tell Prince Bahnak what he needs to know. Then I can die."

"You'll be doing no such thing if I have anything to say about it," the surgeon growled, "so I'll thank you not to be giving up while you're in **my** care! I'll-"

"Swear at him later, Chihar," Evark interrupted, going to one knee by the pallet. "And hello to you, Brandark; I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before, but I'm Evark Pitchallow. We're on our way north up the coast to the Bay of Kolvania, and yes, we will get you to Hurgrum. My word on it."

Brandark frowned. "How-?"

"-do I know your name? Well, it was Korthrala who let me know we should stop and pick you up instead of sailing on by, and when I was able to get to His House in Refuge he told me your name. Apparently he likes you," Evark said dryly, one hand twirling his moustache as he felt a secret inner glow. _And me!_

The hradani's ears flattened uneasily, then struggled back up to half-mast. "Huh. That's... not something I ever expected to hear, frankly."

_Likewise._ "Well, it seems you're popular there, big 'un, because Foam Beard says his sister Chesmirsa likes you too."

"**Huh**." Now **that** brought the ears up for a moment, and Brandark's eyes lost their hard glitter, softening. "Well, isn't that a thing, now..."

"A hradani bard?" Chihar muttered, half-smiling. "Now that's new."

"Would-be bard," Brandark snorted. "I can play well enough, but I haven't the voice for it, and I can't compose anything better than satire. Bahzell says-" His voice cut off abruptly and his face twisted in grief, ears flattening again.

Evark looked away and gestured to Chihar, giving the hradani a moment of privacy in his pain. "I'm needing a few minutes to talk to our passenger alone, if you think he's up to it."

Chihar grumbled. "I think it won't matter one way or another what I say if you and that big lunk want to talk. Let me know when you're done."

Evark watched him go, then turned back to Brandark. The hradani was staring blindly at the deckhead above them, but blinked and turned back to him when the halfling shifted. "Right then," Evark said, voice low. "Whatever message it is you're carrying, it's important enough to get my god fussed, and Korthrala's not the fussing sort. I've dropped a high-paid cargo run to shuttle you up north, boyo, and I won't be asking you for a bent copper kormak, but I will ask you this; can you tell me what in all the hells is going on? If you can't, then you can't, but if you can, I wish you would. I'd really like to know why I'm about to take a blue-water ship up the damned Saram River, through three different human kingdoms and a load of Bloody Sword hradani bandits - saving your presence," he added dryly, "past the Forest of the Sharmi **and** Troll Garth, too, if it turns out that's the most navigable branch."

_And,_ he thought, unspoken but seeing that the hradani understood him without words, _if you die on the way I'd like something more to deliver than your corpse and a few cryptic words muttered on a beach._

* * * * *

Major Rathan No'hai Taihar scowled around at the mess. Oversized corpses littered the clearing, the damp ground was torn up and churned like a bad road after rain, a couple of the smaller trees had been uprooted or even snapped off in the melee, and frankly the half-elf major didn't think he'd ever seen a messier battlefield. Which wasn't making it any easier to work out what exactly had **happened** here.

A few things were immediately clear, of course, but that just led to more and murkier questions. What in Phrobus's name had a couple of dozen **hradani** been doing in the middle of the Shipwood?

_Apart from dying,_ he commented dryly to himself, fastidiously nudging one of the corpses with his boot to bring its face into view.

"Well?" he asked coldly, and his second in command saluted.

"Sir," Halith said stiffly. "It appears that almost all of them belonged to the same group; they have fairly standardised gear, and-"

"You call this mess standardised?" Rathan asked incredulously, gesturing at the various nearby corpses. Astonishingly, Halith smirked.

"Not by **our** standards, certainly," he murmured, and the major couldn't suppress a laugh. "Their cloaks and so forth certainly aren't, but they are all wearing similar armour and carrying nearly identical weapons, and while I can't read hradani runes I can tell that they all have the same markings on belt buckles and sheaths. So yes, sir; I do call this mess standardised, however painful it may be to warp the meaning of the poor word this much."

"Point taken," Rathan sighed. "Carry on."

"There are only two bodies that don't match," Halith said, gesturing to one side. "One is wearing a higher quality of gear, but with the same symbols, so I believe he was their leader. As for the other..." Leading the major past one of the fallen trees to a slight dip in the ground, he gestured elegantly.

"Bleeding **hells**."

"Quite, sir."

The body lying in the dip was immense, well over a foot taller than any of the other hradani corpses and much more heavily built. Not that the other hradani were slender, far from it; but Rathan would swear that each of the massive body's thighs were as thick as his own waist.

"That's either some sort of freak of nature, or..."

"A Horse Stealer, sir."

"This was ridiculous enough even if we assume the others are Wild Wash! What is a Horse Stealer hradani doing at **this** end of the continent?!"

Sensibly enough, Halith didn't answer the rhetorical question, instead crouching by the large corpse and wordlessly pulling back the cloak half-covering it. Rathan's eyes narrowed.

"I see," he said, dangerously quiet. "Are there any signs to tell us how many survivors there are?"

"Not as yet, sir," Halith shook his head, dropping the cloak back to cover the roughly-bandaged chest. "At least one, obviously, given that this one couldn't have managed that himself. I have the scouts searching for tracks now."

"Good. What about my cousin?"

"He should be here soon."

Rathan sniffed. "He'd be here already if he'd started out as soon as my messenger reached him. I suppose I should be thankful he's willing to stir his rear out of his mansion at all."

Halith coughed behind his hand and looked pointedly away from the major, diplomatically deaf.

Turning away from the mysterious corpse, Rathan kicked through the litter of bags and clothing lying nearby. Something twanged and jangled, and he leaned down to pull a smashed balalaika out of the bag that hadn't protected it. "Good grief," he muttered, turning it around in his hands. "It takes greedy bandits to steal musical instruments." One string parted with a quiet _*ping*_, and the balalaika twanged again as he dropped it, dismissing it from his mind.

Scanning the battlefield again, Rathan realised that Halith was still standing quietly at his shoulder, awaiting orders. "Well carry on, man, carry on," he said irritably, waving him away. "Report back if you find anything important." Halith saluted and strode off, and Rathan found himself in the perennial position of an officer in the field with good subordinates: temporarily without anything to do. He sighed.

"Where **is** that imbecile Yithar?"

- - - - - -

"Can't my cousin Taihar deal with this himself?" Yithar asked, almost whining. The army scout to whom he was directing the question shrugged very slightly.

"I'm sure he can, m'lord, but he felt that as the incident occurred on your land you would wish to be alerted."

Yithar huffed. "Oh, it's my land all right, but we're talking about the middle of the **Shipwood**! It's **leagues** away from any of my actual villages, it's not as if anyone ever **goes** out there!"

"Well, it seems that several somebodies **did** go there, m'lord." The scout shrugged again. "And died there. Given the circumstances, the army does have to concern itself."

"I still don't see why he needs **me**," Yithar muttered, but stopped arguing. _He probably doesn't need me,_ he thought sourly. _In fact, I'm sure he doesn't. He's just calling me there to be annoying, curse him._

The rest of the journey to the clearing in question was quiet, but certainly not peaceful; Yithar spent it cursing his cousin, his horse, his saddle, the saddle-sores he was sure he was going to develop, and the army scout for setting a pace much faster than Yithar was accustomed to travelling. The cursed grunt didn't even have the grace to look uncomfortable in the saddle.

Arriving at the ravaged clearing, Yithar paled at the sight of the bodies Rathan's squad were dragging into ragged lines. "You didn't say they were **hradani**! What- what if some of them are still out there?!"

"We're checking that, m'lord," the scout said blandly.

"So why'd you call me out here before you were sure?!" Yithar dithered for a moment, briefly considering reining his horse back around and riding back where he came from, but saw Major Taihar approaching and pasted a sickly smile on his face. "Cousin! Er, what-"

"What took you so long?" the major snapped, gesturing the scout away.

"I, well, I'm hardly prepared to ride out at a moment's notice..." Yithar could feel his smile slide towards apologetic and swore inwardly. _Why does he always have this effect on me? Oh, now the eyebrow, of course!_

Rathan had indeed raised one supercilious eyebrow, sniffing slightly. "Well. You're here now."

"Er, yes. Ah... what happened here?"

"As near as we can tell from the placement of the bodies and so forth," Rathan told him, turning away to gesture at the mess, "most of these died fighting a much smaller group of enemies. Wild Wash or one of the other, aheh, 'smaller' breed of hradani versus three or four Horse Stealers, it looks like. All or nearly all of the larger... well, more numerous... group died; only one of the others fell."

"If only one of them is dead, how do you know how many there were?" Yithar asked nervously, sidestepping away as two of Rathan's men dragged another body past him. "And how do you tell them apart? They all look alike to **me**."

His cousin gave him another raised-eyebrow look, but deigned to answer instead of just telling him it should be obvious. "There were three main clusters of dead, and one was bigger than the others so was probably made by them fighting against two opponents rather than just one. We've also found three sets of tracks leading away, one south towards the coast and the others heading north. As for how we can tell them apart?" His voice turned dry as he pointed to one end of the nearest row of corpses. "They may look alike to you, but if you look closely enough there **are** a few minor differences about that one there."

Yithar's eyes went wide and he sputtered for a moment before regaining his voice. "Gods! Um, eheh, I see your point, cousin..." He frowned, voice trailing off, then resumed in a low mutter. "He's nearly as big as the one in that damned village..."

Rathan scowled. "What one in which village?"

"Oh!" Yithar fairly jumped. "Ah, there were a couple of hradani living in one of my villages until recently. A blacksmith, even bigger than that one I think, and his daughter. They've left now, though," he hastened to assure the major.

"And you didn't think it was odd to find them there?" Rathan asked incredulously.

"Well, no!" he protested. "The Wild Wash are just up the coast, after all, I suppose one or two get in a feud and have to leave every so often. Besides, so long as he was productive I had no reason-"

"I **said** that one's no Wild Wash brigand! The only hradani who grow that big are Horse Stealers, and they live up north by the **Sothoii**!"

"All that way?" Yithar blinked, then flushed angrily. "Well, **I** didn't know that!"

"Plainly," Rathan sneered. "I'll be wanting to speak to these hradani of yours."

"I told you, they left!"

"Then you'd best set about **finding** them, hadn't you?"

Yithar gnawed his lower lip, glaring at his cousin's back as the major stalked away. _They're not __**my**__ hradani, certainly not now! And if Taihar wants me to find them, or goes looking for them himself, that whole mess with the Order of Torframos and the __**demons**__ is going to come out..._ He was uncomfortably aware that what Major Taihar found out, the Council of Lords at Bortalik would know soon after, and they weren't going to be pleased that he hadn't kept them fully informed. In fact, he hadn't kept them informed at all; that little 'incident' hadn't exactly shown him in the best light, and he'd spent very little time trying to decide on the best way to report it before deciding on 'not at all'.

He was going to have to report it now. The Council might have been happy with a delayed report if it had been less embarrassing, or if he'd made it before this happened to force his hand, but in the circumstances their position was going to be that he should have started sending them couriers as it was happening. They weren't going to take 'delayed paperwork' or 'pressures of his other duties' as an answer this time. And when he thought about exactly what he was going to have to report...

Temples of Sharna in the Spinewall, near enough to his lands that they were sure to claim he could have - **should** have - found out about it before now.

Demons being summoned and attacking **his** lands.

A demon **prince** being summoned, and going off with the Order of Torframos of all things.

His own less-than-scintillating performance during all of this. Yithar wished he could believe that lying about it would pass muster, but when **this** report reached the Council they were certain to send investigators to interrogate all the witnesses.

Finally, and worst of all, a member of one of the Militant Orders had threatened to use Yithar's own conduct as a formal repudiation by the Purple Lords of their legal code.

Yithar didn't realise it, but his complexion had turned pale enough to look faintly greenish.

"M'lord?" one of his human guardsmen asked tentatively, peering at him with a worried expression. "Are you all right?"

"Mind your own cursed business, Kairic," he snarled, happy to have even a minor target to strike at. "When and if I want you to poke your nose into mine, I'll **tell** you."

The blond guardsman stiffened to attention, face blank. "My apologies, m'lord. I spoke out of turn."

"Damn right you did," Yithar muttered, glaring venomously. The human stayed stiff, staring over his shoulder as if he'd been stuffed and mounted, and Yithar finally turned away. The rest of his small escort were blatantly Not Hearing Anything, carefully examining nearby corpses or diligently watching the trees for hypothetical ambushes, and he snorted mentally. _Cowards, the lot of them._

Looking around at the squad still tidying up the bodies, he frowned. Rathan's words still stung, and he almost pouted as he looked at the hradani corpses. _I don't see why __**I**__ should be expected to know the difference between hradani tribes. It's not as if it's actually __**relevant**__ to me. __**I**__ didn't go into the army._ Another pair of Rathan's men grabbed the arms of yet another corpse near him, starting to drag it away, and he eyed the body's gear, automatically valuing it. _I can tell that this one is wearing far better gear than the others; depressingly plain and ugly, of course, but quite a high value. Surprisingly high, really. There, __**that's**__ relevant to me... eh?_

As they hauled the body away, something that had been hidden underneath it came into view, glinting brightly in the subdued afternoon sun. Curiosity piqued, Yithar strolled over, fastidiously avoiding the worst of the bloody mud.

_A sword? Well now! That's a much better blade than I'd expect any of these filth to be carrying, quite elegant really. Valuable. I wonder who they stole it from?_

_...Is that an __**emerald**__ as the pommel stone? It's huge!_

Sun and leaf-shadows flickered as a gentle breeze stirred the trees, and Yithar's eyes widened as the emerald gleamed at him. It was bigger than his thumb-joint, with no flaws visible to a quick examination, and his mind started totalling up its possible price.

_=*Pick it up,*=_ something whispered quietly to him.

_...Rathan will take it,_ he thought dazedly. _It's evidence, or spoils, or something; he'll say it should go to the Council..._

_=*Take it,*=_ the whisper insisted. _=*This isn't for the likes of __**him**__. Something that fine should be yours. Claim it!*=_

Almost without him willing it, Yithar reached out and picked up the sword. It came up out of the churned muck clean, not even a smear of dirt or blood marring its shine, and he turned it in his hand wonderingly, staring at it.

There was something engraved on the sword's guard. A... scorpion?

Yithar had just enough time to realise what that meant before a cold, gloating voice spoke in his mind.

_=*You'll do just fine. Power and vengeance for you; souls and vengeance for __**me**__. Agreed? Agreed.*=_

_=*And for your first task as my Champion... leave no witnesses.*=_

- - - - - -

Kairic hung back as his lord moved on, quietly letting the other guardsmen move ahead of him and hoping that he could remain mostly unnoticed for at least the next few minutes. If he didn't attract Lord Yithar's attention again until after he'd gotten over his current mood, chances were that the lord would have forgotten all about it by the time they got back to the estate.

_Or he'll be more pissed at someone else by then, and ignore me in favour of punishing them,_ he thought, trading carefully expressionless glances with one of the other guardsmen. It was a dance he'd done before, carefully staying in Yithar's sight enough to be recognised as **doing** something, while not getting enough attention to be a target of too many of the lord's frequent snit fits.

_I should have gone into the army... oh well._ Shrugging mentally, Kairic followed as Yithar stopped glaring around the clearing and walked towards where one of the bodies had been lying. _Now what's he doing? The way he hates blood and mess, I'd expect him to be balancing on a tussock and squeaking every time he looked at the bodies._

When the half-elf lord bent down and straightened up with a sword in his hand, Kairic blinked. _Where did he get that?! I would have sworn there was nothing there! It's not even dirty, so it can't have been buried under the mud..._ Uneasily, he took half a step back, then another. His instincts were screaming at him all of a sudden, and there was something badly **wrong** here.

Then the sword in Yithar's hand burst into green flames, and he swung sideways without even looking to cut one of his own guardsmen down.

_Oh __**fuck**__!_

Backpedaling frantically to get clear, Kairic snatched out his own sword but hesitated, unsure of his next move. _I know he's useless with a blade, but that sword-!_ He had no idea how to tell what sort of magic it was, but really he didn't need to; it was blatantly **some** kind of magic, and that was more than enough. _Tyllar went down __**way**__ too fast, that shouldn't have been enough of a cut to drop him like that - whatever that sword does, it's bad-_

His mouth dropped open as Yithar spun and ducked, bringing the sword around in an impossibly graceful motion to impale his second guardsman, then kicked the falling corpse off the flaming blade and slashed sideways. The tip barely reached his third target, slicing a shallow nick across the front of his throat, but the man dropped as if poleaxed.

_Oh shit. Oh __**shit**__. It's helping him fight and he only has to __**scratch**__ me, there's no way I can beat him like this!_

Kairic could see his own death in his lord's eyes as the half-elf turned to him, sword lifting-

-and Major Taihar leapt at his cousin from behind, swinging his own sword in a two-handed arc at Yithar's head. "Gods damn you for a gutless fool!" he roared. "I knew you were an idiot, but **this** is-"

Yithar backhanded him with the pommel, snapping his head back and sending him staggering to the ground. His face had been almost blank, sheened with sweat, but now it twisted into a manic grin. "Ha!" he crowed, seeming to forget Kairic completely as he turned to gloat. "Now who's the weakling? Now who's the failure? **Now** who's in charge?! I always hated you, you bastard!"

_Oh thank the gods, thank you, let him forget me, let me pull __**something**__ to live through this!_

Kairic scrambled away, putting a tree between him and the raving half-elf, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to run. Knowing that that sword was **behind** him, expecting at any moment that it would strike his back and end his life... no. _I'd end up trying to run backwards or something and that never works. Maybe, maybe, uh, if I- there has to be a way!_

Cringing, hating himself, he watched as Yithar slaughtered the Major's squad. Part of him wanted to charge and help, try to save someone else; part of him still wanted to run; part of him begged to hide and pray he wouldn't be found. Part of him saw one of the scouts on the other side of the clearing, white-faced, working his way backwards into hiding, and took shamed comfort in the idea that someone else was as scared as he was.

Yet another part, a tiny irrepressible speck, noted that Yithar must have found a really **impressive** cursed sword, if it could even lend **him** the ability to fight like that. Then he saw the Major groggily trying to stand, and had an idea.

_Will it work?_

_It's got to. And Yithar is conceited enough that it just might!_

It took all of Kairic's courage, more than he'd thought he had, to run towards the half-elves. Halfway there, he almost turned back as something occurred to him: _If he's possessed or something, not really acting of his own volition, this __**won't**__ work. It's an appeal to his vanity, to the leadership skills he __**thinks**__ he has, it won't work if I can't flatter him!_

_-Well damn it, nothing else is going to give me much of a chance! Stop thinking and __**do**__ it!_

He reached Major Taihar just as the officer managed to straighten, bringing his sword up in a defensive position. Blood was running down his face from his nose and split lip and he swayed, clearly dazed, but he wasn't giving up.

_Please let him be dazed enough to not react fast when I do this- and let him have his wits about him enough for it to work!_

Yithar cut down the last soldier and turned back towards the Major, grin widening, just as Kairic came up behind him. Kairic could almost see Yithar's thoughts in the flicker of his eyes as he noted the guardsman's presence and dismissed it as inconsequential, focussing on his cousin. Rathan spat blood and raised his swordtip, drawing breath to say something, defiant or insulting perhaps, certainly not a plea for the mercy Yithar clearly wasn't going to give.

Both half-elves froze, eyes going wide in shock, as Kairic wound his left arm around the Major's throat and jammed his short sword into his back. Rathan stiffened, lips moving wordlessly; then his eyes rolled closed and his breath huffed out as he went completely limp, spattering more blood. Kairic yanked backwards, going down on one knee beside his target as he dropped him flat in one of the deepest, messiest puddles of fresh blood and mud the new slaughter had left.

Leaving his sword in the muck, the human spat on his victim and shoved the limp body over onto its face, then turned and knelt submissively, bending his head. "My lord." _Thank all the gods, my voice didn't crack!_

"...Hm."

Kairic didn't dare peek up through his hair, but he could see Yithar's feet. The half-elf wasn't moving; then the tip of the cursed sword swung down to hang at his side, no longer flaming. There wasn't a mark on the blade, even now, as if the blood from his multiple kills hadn't stuck... or had been absorbed.

"I **wanted** to kill him **myself**, you know."

The guardsman almost fainted in relief. Yithar's tone was petty, sulking, and **familiar**. It was one he'd heard so many times before, telling him that his lord was annoyed - but not quite annoyed enough to strike out at his servants. "I humbly beg your pardon, my lord," he said smoothly, bowing his head further. "I only thought to assist you, as is my place."

"Bah. You have a point, I suppose." Yithar stepped closer, feet turning to the side as if he was studying his cousin's corpse. A sideways glance without moving his head let Kairic see that the back of Rathan's tunic was soaked with bright blood, the ragged cut left by his sword showing clearly. "Well, dead is dead however it happens, and I have to admit he makes such an **attractive** cadaver," he went on, sounding almost cheerful.

"As my lord says."

"Hmm." Yithar's feet turned towards him, now, and there was a long pause; then the lord snorted and abruptly turned away. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go fetch the horses."

"Yes, my lord. Immediately."

Kairic spent a long minute gentling the horses before he untied them; they were unsettled by the violence and the scent of blood, and as he murmured soothingly to them he could feel his own racing heart slow as well. By the time they were calm, so was he. For a moment, he considered flinging himself on one of them, scattering the rest and sprinting for the distant road.

_No,_ he thought, carefully not glancing back over his shoulder. _Not yet. No matter how wilfully blind he is, he's got to be suspicious of me still. Go along with him, wait for a better moment and make it count._

When he turned, Yithar was watching him, sword in hand, and he barely managed to hide his shudder. _Oh yes. Not now. Not yet._ Then he plastered a blank look on his face, bowed, and held the stirrup for his lord.

- - - - - -

Once the sound of hoofbeats had died away, Rathan cautiously opened one eye. His face was pressed into the muck, he could barely breathe, he'd been holding his breath anyway in an effort to better imitate his own dead body... and he was damned if he was going to move before he was well and truly certain that his crazed cousin was far, far away.

He heard footsteps and snapped his eye shut again before registering that they were coming from the wrong direction.

"Sir?" a shaking voice whispered. "Major? Are... are you alive?"

Only the knowledge of exactly what was in the mud trying to flow into his mouth stopped him from gasping in relief. Lifting his head, he looked long and hard in the direction Yithar had ridden away in before turning to the trembling scout. "Did anyone else survive?" he asked tersely.

"Just Veleran, I think, sir," the scout told him, pointing back into the trees. "We were both scouting trails when- when, uh, it happened, and I think Lord Yithar never saw us. We didn't want to both come out at once in case he wasn't really gone."

"And you drew the short straw," Rathan finished dryly. The scout managed a shaky smile for a moment.

"Rock-leaf-knife, sir. I always lose." Staring around at what was left of his squadmates, he lost the smile quickly. "I should check the others. If someone else is feigning-"

"They won't be," the major told him grimly, levering himself up out of the muck. "One of his own men went straight down, stone dead from just a scratch. That sword kills with a touch."

"Sir, if it does that, how did **you** survive?"

Rathan swiped gory muck off his face, eyes distant as he remembered a desperate, hissed whisper in his ear and the feel of a sword rasping along the scale armour under his tunic.

_'Play dead if you want to live through this!'_

"I had help," he said shortly. "One of his guardsmen kept his wits about him and managed to both fake my death and prevent his own."

"Oh." The scout's eyes were wide. "Well done him."

"I've a heavy debt to pay that human if we both live through this mess," Rathan admitted, recovering his sword. "Do we still have our horses?"

"Yes sir. They only took the ones they came with."

"Good. Call Veleran in and fetch the six freshest horses; leave the others tied, we'll be coming back as fast as we can."

"Where are we going, sir?"

The Major shot him an exasperated look. "Bortalik, man! I'll be heading straight for the Council house, and while I do that one of **you** will be doing the rounds of every temple you can reach."

* * * * *

"So that's it?" Wufei asked. Half asleep on two cushions next to him, Karthan yawned, craned his neck to see the screen, and nodded.

"Yup. Marfang Island."

The channel between the large island and the beach where the Order of Torframos were setting up camp was wide enough for details to be lost in the distance, but still narrow enough that Wufei could see the lights of a small city springing up in the gathering dusk. It seemed to be a compact, neat little port, and the vague hint of docks he could make out seemed far more extensive than necessary for a town that size. Then again, Uthmar had said something about Marfangers being 'legendary seamen'...

"We made fairly good time here. I'll be glad to get out of this chair, though."

"What, is my scintillating personality not enough to keep you amused?"

"Not when two of my harness straps are directly over spots where that damned priest got all knife-happy, no," Wufei told him dryly, making Nataku kneel and reaching to unsnap the buckle. "Also not when I'm doing almost everything one-handed."

"Wufei!" Karthan jerked upright, scowling. "Damn it, the whole point of me insisting on riding with you was so I'd be here if you needed bandages changed or anything! Why didn't you mention it so I could get some extra padding in there or something?"

Wufei looked thoughtful. "Do you know, I didn't think of it?"

"So you sat there the whole time, griping at your harness, instead?"

"Apparently so. Oops?"

"Watch it, you, or I'll tell Naiya you're neglecting yourself."

"Just don't tell Vaijon as well," Wufei said, opening the hatch.

"I would have thought you'd rather have him change your bandages than her?"

"Naiya won't change my bandages," the pilot told him dryly, standing up carefully and wincing as he stretched. "She'll just turn her back while someone else does it, and lecture me the whole time. Vaijon, however, will change the bandages, wince every time he thinks he's hurt me, and lecture **himself** the whole time for not riding along and making sure I was properly looked after. While the last day or so has been a welcome change in his personality, that doesn't mean I appreciate **all** of it."

- - - - - -

Plans for the next couple of days were discussed around the Champions' campfire that night.

"A Marfanger ship can get us up to Belhadan in about ten days," Arwen began, cradling his mug in both hands.

"Really?" Vaijon blinked. "Ah, your pardon, Sir Arwen, but isn't it over two hundred leagues from here?"

"It is," the Champion nodded, "but a Marfanger captain who can't make twenty leagues a day is a Marfanger looking for a new ship. That's if they're only sailing during daylight - if they sail at night they can double that distance, and they do."

"But we're not after planning to do that?" Cord asked.

"Right," Uthmar grinned in his beard. "That's when Wufei and Nataku will be catching up to us, and getting some sleep."

Wufei snorted. "Catching up? That would involve falling behind. Surely you jest. Still, I did wonder how you were going to explain us."

"We're not going to yet," the dwarf told him dryly, one eyebrow heading for his hairline. "Nataku can sustain twenty leagues a day?"

"More like forty, underwater, if she's making sure not to cause disturbances on the surface." Wufei shrugged, doing some quick calculations in his head. _Probably even faster, given that I won't have to worry about OZ picking us up on sonar! Leagues seem to be the same length as the old measurements back on Earth, about three miles, so that means Belhadan is roughly six hundred miles from here... allowing for the ship's route not being a straight line..._ "I assume you intend for us to stay out of sight, and on land we'd be running into coastal villages all the time, so underwater it is. If we were **flying**, however, and knew where to go, we could make it to Belhadan in one day."

"...I didn't know she could fly," Uthmar finally said, both eyebrows attempting to become one with his scalp.

"We did," Terrin put in cheerfully. "I actually got to **see** it."

Arwen coughed, hauling his own eyebrows down to approximately their usual locations by sheer force of will. "Er. You're right, Wufei, we were planning for you to stay out of sight on the trip if it was possible. Once we reach Belhadan, though, we'll be contacting the chapter house and revealing your presence. We'll get a lot of attention on the way overland to Axe Hallow and the motherhouse," he added, grimacing, "but it can't be helped. The Empire of the Axe is far more densely populated than the Purple Lord lands, so keeping you secret from the general populace won't be feasible any more."

"I gather lords like Yithar are the reason we aren't hiring a Purple Lord ship?" Wufei asked.

"That's one of the reasons, yes."

"Plus the fact that the Purple Lords don't get on with anyone, including each other, so you never know which one is plotting what with whom," Gunnar put in, leaning back rather stiffly against a tree. "And they really don't like the militant orders, so we'd get price-gouged from here to the Wind Plains. **And**, their ships stink."

"Literally or metaphorically?"

"Both," he grinned. "A Purple Lord ship would be doing well to get us up to Belhadan before the snow flies."

"Let's not hire one, then."

"Let's not," Arwen agreed dryly. "So. Uthmar or I, along with a few of the men, will head across to Marfang Island at first light and find a ship; there are a couple of coastal villages just south-east of here who make money ferrying people across, so getting there won't be a problem. Wufei, if you wouldn't mind taking Nataku and playing least-in-sight while the ship picks the rest of us up, that would be appreciated; and, given that you can travel as fast as you say, you'd best wait until dusk tomorrow before coming out of hiding and following along. There's enough ship traffic along here during the day that you'll likely have a hard time finding an opportunity to get underwater with nobody in sight, not to mention that Refuge Harbour is close enough for a lookout with a good spyglass to get a clear view of this shore - and with the Wild Wash hradani just a little way to the north-west, they'll be looking."

"How will Wufei be able to track us, though?" Naiya asked, concerned.

"If Karthan's on the ship with you," Wufei shrugged, "I can follow along. Plus, since he and I seem to be able to speak over our link no matter how far apart we are, we'll be able to stay in touch without having to risk actually meeting up on the way. I can stay underwater until you've got the people in Belhadan as prepared as they're going to get for our appearance."

"Might I travel with you, S- Wufei?" Vaijon put in, a little diffidently. "In case you need assistance, or company?"

_Ten days alone in a small metal box with Reformed Vaijon. Dear gods._ Wufei was very proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver, and he was fairly sure that nothing of his reaction had shown on his face. "I'll be fine, Vaijon, really. I can still talk to Karthan, and I'm sure **he**-" A quick jerk of his head upwards indicated who he meant. "-will pop in for a chat." _Though he hasn't been around since we left the temple site this morning. I wonder why?_ "Besides," he added quickly as Vaijon drew breath, "I still don't know what triggered the link between Karthan and myself; I don't want to find out that just carrying someone else in the cabin with me will do it."

"And we're not going to do any experimenting with that right now," Uthmar agreed. "Or, probably, ever. No, Wufei will be fine, and it's not as if he can't come find us if he does need something."

With that idea shot down, talk - thankfully - turned in other directions.

* * * * *

"How could you nickname my brother **Sexy Zechsy**?!" Relena wailed as soon as she came in the door.

"Because I didn't know he was your brother at the time!" Duo protested from his seat at the table. "And like I said, he is! Believe me hon, if I'd known he was your brother my appreciation of his ass would have been purely platonic."

"You're not helping!"

"...What **are** you two talking about?" Quatre asked, eyes wide.

"Turns out Zechs is Relena's brother Milliardo," Heero explained dryly, dumping a stack of plates in front of Duo. "-Pass these out, please. Apparently he thinks he's not good enough to be her brother or something, so Duo is planning to beat some sense into him."

"I'm not going to actually hit him," Duo added hastily as Relena looked about to panic. "Of course, these plans may change if he stays stubborn and makes 'Lena cry."

"I still don't know if this is the right thing to do," Relena said miserably, sitting down next to him. "Maybe... maybe he'd be happier leaving again. I haven't seen him since I was tiny..."

"Well, yeah, maybe he would," Duo shrugged. "Thing is, he doesn't actually know that, does he? He doesn't know what sticking around and being your brother would be like. Plus, he's kinda basing his decision to leave again on what would be best for **you**, right? You and he disagree on what would be best, and he doesn't have the right to make that decision on his own anyway. So we tell him to be your brother on a trial basis or something. Give it six months or a year and then see how you both feel about it."

Quatre blinked, clearly still stuck on an earlier part of the conversation. "...Sexy Zechsy is Relena's **brother**?!"

"Oh, Quatre, not you too!"

"Well he is!"

Trowa nodded wordlessly, passing her a glass of juice.

"I don't believe this," she sighed.

"I think you two were supposed to be planning, not discussing Zechs's relative sexiness and whether or not his nickname is accurate," Heero said dryly.

"I'm not saying it's not **accurate**," Relena protested, "I'm just- um." She blushed.

"Admit it, 'Lena, you've checked out his rear too," Duo said in a low voice, grinning wickedly.

"I have done no such thing!" There was a brief pause as her blush deepened; then she sighed, one corner of her mouth lifting into an embarrassed smile. "His shoulders, on the other hand, did give me a few interested moments. And if you **ever** reveal that to **anyone**, Duo, I'll- I'll- I don't know what I'll do, but I'll think up something and it will involve pink."

"Lips are sealed!" he said hastily, lifting his hands in surrender. "Not a word. I heard nothing."

- - - - - -

Zechs lay back, staring dully at the ceiling. His leg throbbed, his headache was bad enough to be giving him little sparkles in front of his eyes, he was certain he could feel every one of his seven broken ribs, and yet somehow he couldn't work up the energy to push the call button and ask for painkillers. It wasn't as if it really mattered, after all...

He heard the door swing open, but didn't bother to look. It was only going to be a nurse, or maybe the lunch trolley.

"You sure?" a familiar voice asked. "Okay. Q, you stay here, okay? I'll start, you can come in later. Oh, sweet! He's in traction! Yo, Zechsy, you can't get away from me now!"

When he looked towards the door, Zechs discovered with trepidation that no, he hadn't been experiencing some sort of auditory hallucination. Duo Maxwell really was in his hospital room, grinning at him.

"...What happened to you?" he asked, seeing the crutches.

"I'd say 'you did', except you had nothing to do with this," Duo said cheerfully, swinging over and flinging himself into the visitor's chair. "It was some stairs, mostly... and a ladder, and then the stairs again, and then I had surgery, which is why you find me here before you with my style slightly restrained by this brace. Only slightly, though."

"Why **are** you here?"

"Thanks to you feeling all emo and unworthy, sunshine, I got woken up at stupid o'clock this morning by a hysterical phone call from one Relena Peacecraft, who happens to be your sister and also - now this bit is important - my friend. I do not appreciate people upsetting my friends, much less making them wake me up at stupid o'clock. I'm a healing boy and need my rest. So! We're going to discuss this like the mature adults we aren't, and you are going to bow to the wisdom of my arguments and realise that your sister loves you, you moron, therefore you leaving is **not** the best thing for her, I don't care what you think. You might as well give in now, 'cause I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Zechs blinked.

"You going to say anything or just capitulate wordlessly?"

"...Do you ever have to **breathe**?"

"So I've got good lung capacity. It's a gift." Duo peered closer at Zechs's face, checking his eyes. "How much painkillers are you on?"

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Obviously not enough."


	36. Chapter 35

"You want me to call a nurse or something?" Duo asked cheerfully. "Actually physically beating you up is not part of my current plan, so I don't mind getting you some more painkillers."

"That wasn't my point," Zechs sighed again. "If I had sufficient painkillers, I would be **asleep** and not have to deal with this."

"Suck it up, princess. Been there, done that, wrote the book on it. -Oh, wait, if you're Relena's brother then you really are a prince, right? Suck it up, princey boy!"

"Yet another reason not to return to my former life," Zechs pointed out. "Sanc doesn't need another heir complicating matters."

"So you don't go back to being Millardo Peacecraft," Duo shrugged. "You can stick around being Zechs Merquise, or maybe take a new identity like you planned, just without the leaving part. Or you renounce the throne in favour of your sister, whatever. That's handleable. What isn't handleable is you emo-ing off into the sunset and upsetting Relena, okay? She does care about you."

"She doesn't **need** me!"

"She begs to differ. It's not like she has any other family left, is it? And she's kind of short on genuine friends, too. She could really use your support."

"She apparently has you; I'd expect you to claim that you're better than a dozen other friends." Zechs blinked, thinking about that statement, and looked quizzically at Duo. "How did **that** happen, by the way?"

"I'm still kinda baffled myself," Duo grinned. "It works, though. Still..." He rubbed his nose and grimaced, sobering. "I might not always be around, you know? We - all of us Gundam pilots - look, this may not happen, okay, so don't tell your sister yet, but there's a chance we might all... leave. Which would pretty well wipe out most of your sister's close friends, all right? She's gonna need you even more if that happens."

"How is it that I'm not allowed to 'emo off into the sunset', but you are?"

"'Cause you'd be emo-ing away from something good and towards nothing, and we'd be emo-ing away to somewhere we're needed, okay? Also, there would be less emo and more explosions."

"...I'm not going to ask," Zechs decided eventually. "I think I'm afraid of the answers I'd get."

"You're demonstrating excellent judgement there. Now apply some of that excellent judgement to your current situation, i.e. your sister is your sister no matter how unworthy you feel. She disagrees about the unworthy bit, too."

"That's not her decision to make," Zechs snapped.

"I'd say it is. Or at the very least, it's a **shared** decision," Duo snapped back. "Neither of you gets to make choices for the other here. And, Zechsy, just a heads-up? You'd better make the right choice, 'cause you do not want me to chase you down and go Shinigami on your ass."

"Didn't you just say you were planning to leave? That's going to make chasing me inconvenient."

"Oh, I think we'll be able to get Relena settled first. Not, y'know, wanting to **abandon** her without a support structure," Duo said pointedly. "Plus, even if you wait for us to leave and then sneak off, she's perfectly capable of chasing you down herself. There would be less ass-beating than I'd provide, but a lot more big blue eyes and wobbly bottom lips. Trust me, that's worse. You do not know fear until you wake up in what you thought was a safe house and find a pink limousine outside your front door."

- - - - - -

Fifteen minutes later...

_Is he ever going to shut up?_

"Did I mention that I'll be bringing friends if I have to track you down for ass-beating? It's a very nice ass, by the way, we're all agreed that it's just about perfect even if we have to regard it platonically now that we know you're Relena's brother. It's a shame, really, I used to pass boring hours on stakeout imagining how you'd react if Une ever groped you- you can't tell me she didn't appreciate it- but now I have to regard you as sort-of a brother, which makes ass-appreciation kind of creepy. Anyway, as I was saying, friends. Multiple friends. Multiple friends with weapons and awesome skills at ass-beating while I sit back and rest my knee so Heero doesn't get all disappointed and pouty at me again. Did you know he can do pouty? He seems to have adopted it as an alternate strategy now that he's learned not to give me orders, and he's actually fairly good at it, though I think he'd be horrified if he realised what he was doing."

Stubbornly silent, Zechs stared at the ceiling tiles. Surely, if he could ignore the babbling Gundam pilot for long enough, Duo would give up and go away.

"Oh, and if you're trying to wait me out, I should warn you that I don't bore easily."

_Damn._

"Nope, I can go on with stream-of-consciousness nagging for **hours** if I need to! It's easy, really, I just kind of disconnect my filters from between brain and mouth and let 'er rip, and yes I **do** have filters normally-"

_Could have fooled me._

"-which is proven by the fact that if I'd said half the things I was thinking to Heero when we first met two years ago, he woulda shot me then and there and I never woulda had the chance to see your ass. Did you ever notice that you've got a dimple in your right butt cheek, but not the left? Those pants you used to wear all the time were tight enough to show it off nicely. I thanked God for your tailor every night. Well, not **every** night, just when I'd had a chance to check out his work again. Getting back to the topic at hand-"

_Please!_

"-i.e., you being all gloomy and feeling unworthy of your sister, have you considered that if you emo your way into the sunset, you never **will** be worthy of her? Lady Une's grasped the whole concept of redemption through good deeds, you know; I'm pretty sure she's heading up the Preventers to earn forgiveness, whether she consciously recognises it or not. Actually, I really doubt she consciously recognises it, especially since the person she most wants forgiveness from is dead. Your sister, however, is alive and kicking and loves you, aren't you lucky?"

Seething, Zechs clenched his teeth and continued trying to glare a hole in the ceiling tile directly above him.

"Wow, look at that expression! Anyone would think you weren't happy about that. What's not to like about having a sister like Relena? She's pretty, has good taste apart from her inclinations towards pink - which I'm getting her away from, you can thank me later - gets on with practically everyone, is actively working to improve the world, and is generally a pretty cool person. Okay, so she's kinda naïve, and a politician, but nobody's perfect; and as politicians go, she's a decent one. Doesn't take bribes, follows her convictions instead of pandering to financial interests, that sort of thing. The gushing about Total Pacifism gets a bit tired, but she seems to be toning that back too."

Pokerface. Stony expression. If he didn't react, didn't give Duo any feedback, surely this would eventually end?

"Man, you're determined. Anyone would think you actually had a hope of winning. By the way, I do realise that browbeating you into making the decision I want is pretty hypocritical given that I just got done telling you that nobody gets to make unilateral decisions about someone else's happiness, but I can live with that, so don't bother trying to use that as an argument against me."

_Damn, again._

"Welp, I figure I've softened you up a bit, it's time for Round Two. I mentioned I bring friends, didn't I?" Rubber tips squeaked on the flooring as Duo heaved himself up on his crutches and headed for the door.

_As if Winner is going to be able to convince me if you can't,_ Zechs thought contemptuously. The sweet-faced blond wouldn't be able to take being ignored for long.

"Okay, babe, your turn!"

_...'Babe'?_

Hesitant footsteps approached the bed. "Milliardo?"

Zech's head snapped up and he gaped in shock as his sister's eyes met his.

* * * * *

Akar looked around the... well, it certainly wasn't a sacrificial chamber any more. He'd taken a sledgehammer to the black granite slab himself, and one of the other hradani worshippers had turned out to work on what passed for a road gang here in Navahk; he'd carried the pieces away to be shattered further into gravel and used to repair potholes. It seemed like a fitting end for them.

Now he just had to figure out what to replace the slab with. Did the temple even **need** an altar? Krashnark had made it plain he didn't want sacrifices- well, not of virgin maidens, at any rate.

The new-made priest sighed. He was supposed to be Krashnark's chief worshipper here, the one who led the others in the correct forms and rituals, and he had no idea what they **were**!

_I could ask..._ Akar's ears flattened as he shied away from that thought. Hradani just didn't have anything to **do** with gods, Dark or Light, unless it was to swear by their names. Bad enough that he'd actually come to a temple to worship one, worse that he and the rest had followed that damned human priest into some fairly dark paths... worse still that he'd said yes to becoming a priest himself!

And yet... it had been the god himself who'd asked. He'd looked at Akar, **into** him, and asked. How could he say no?

All right, he could have. He'd felt the option there, and if he was frank with himself he'd admit that having the option to say no made him a lot happier about saying yes. Didn't mean he was going to be **very** happy about it, though.

_And this isn't getting me any further towards working out what to do next, is it?_ he told himself grumpily. _I __**need**__ to ask._

_...Which means I need to figure out __**how**__ to ask, curse it!_

Taking a deep breath, Akar looked around, ears flattening. Nobody else was around, for now, so if he was going to do it at all he figured now was the time.

Grumbling to himself under his breath, he knelt and closed his eyes.

- - - - - -

_My lord?_

Krashnark's attention was pulled away from the temple he was inspecting by the tentative mental call. He wasn't enjoying what he was finding out about the state of his church and the quality of his worshippers, so a prayer from the one priest he was currently **happy** with was a welcome reprieve.

_=*Yes, Akar? What is it?*=_

_...Begging your pardon, m'lord, and I'm not wanting to disturb you, but-_

The god found himself snorting incredulously. _=*What's all this 'my lord' and 'pardon'? You're a hradani, Akar, I was under the impression you only speak formally to people you don't like?*=_

There was a pause, and then Akar's thoughts were back, a little less tense: _That's true and all, Krashnark, but I'm also Navahkian. We've gotten used over the last few years to our overlords wanting us to grovel._

_=*Ha! Well put.*=_ Krashnark grinned. _=*Well, since you've got my attention, what do you need? And never mind all the frills, I think I'd prefer you to speak plainly.*=_

_Ah. I will then. Ah..._ Another pause, and then a faint, not-meant-to-be-heard 'Curse it!' _Sir, I don't know how to be a priest! You chose me, so I'll do my best for you, but what __**is**__ it I'm meant to be doing? How should we worship you? How do we serve you? What do I tell the others when they ask me what __**they**__ should do?_

_=*Be yourselves, mostly,*=_ Krashnark told him, sending a little of his amusement and pleasure along the connection. _=*I didn't choose you to change you, Akar; you're fine just the way you are. I don't need you all to sit in a room somewhere and sing my praises. What I __**do**__ want you to do is dedicate yourselves to me on the battlefield. Call on me for strength; you've got courage enough of your own, I think, but others can call on me for that too. Cut down your enemies and give me a thought then. Thank me if you think I've helped. Each prayer to me, each moment of battle, every enemy you defeat in My name - whether you do so publicly or in secret - is a moment of devotion. Tell the others so.*=_

_Then why did your last priest have this bloody huge useless temple built down here?!_ Akar sputtered. _Er- that came out wrong._

Krashnark laughed out loud, and felt Akar's relief as he heard it. _=*No, Akar, that came out just fine. He built it because __**he**__ wanted it, and I wasn't paying attention at the time. Use it for meetings; when you know there's a battle coming, call My worshippers in and bless them in My name. You can do that, you know.*=_

Akar's mental touch cringed for a moment, and Krashnark imagined his ears flattening. _I'm not sure I'll be any good at that part..._

_=*You don't have to be fancy about it. Call on me, and you'll know what to do.*=_

_Well... I'll try._

_=*Anything else?*=_

_Uh, yes. What should I do about Mathel? The, um, girl._

_=*The one who was going to be sacrificed?*=_ Krashnark's mental voice had darkened, and he felt Akar flinch, but the hradani didn't withdraw. _=*How is she?*=_

_Well enough. That bastard didn't have time to do anything serious, and, well, she's a hradani same as the rest of us; she's healing fine. We, ah, haven't been keeping her prisoner or anything, but she's still here. I don't think she wants to go home._

_=*Ask her why not,*=_ the god suggested. _=*If it's something you can put right, do it. If not, let her stay. I may have a task or two for her later.*=_

- - - - - -

Conversation with Akar finished, Krashnark returned to considering his other temples.

_Not __**one**__,_ he thought sourly. _Not even one of those priests is a good match for me. A couple of the minor acolytes, certainly, there were one or two with a bit of a spark, and some of the worshippers had potential, but otherwise? Nothing!_

_I know I have potentials out there. Akar is proof enough, and four more of those hradani heard me even when I wasn't specifically speaking to them! So why are there hardly any potentials in the __**rest**__ of my church? I used to find nearly all my Champions there! Was three hundred years of neglect really enough to change it that much?_

_What is so different now that worshippers who match me aren't coming to my church?_

Thinking back, Krashnark tried to pinpoint anything that had changed. _Is it that the wrong people have been manoeuvring themselves into positions of power? Are they making it less attractive to the mortals who match me?_

_They __**are**__ the wrong people. My priests are no longer mine in any way that matters. And yet... looking back, they're just like the ones I used to have. The ones that bored me, even though they did match me._

_So the church hasn't changed that much, but... the mortals who match me __**have**__?!_

* * * * *

By mid-morning, Wufei was already bored.

Nataku was as well hidden as he could manage, lying down in a dip with camouflage netting and cut brush arranged over her; it wasn't going to be as effective against close-range observation as it had been in the past against satellite photography and air searches, but it would do well enough so long as nobody actually walked right up to her. The port city on Marfang Island was interesting to watch for a while, but he didn't dare observe it too closely in case, as Arwen had said, some lookout with a good spyglass was checking this stretch of coast for lurking hradani raiders. This left him with nothing to do except take a short walk in the Shipwood - short, because he didn't want to either get too far from Nataku or discover that today was the day foresters picked to select a new area to gather timber from - and there was only so much to look at in old-growth forest with limited underbrush.

He also hadn't thought to inquire whether or not there was a local equivalent of poison ivy, and didn't want to find out there was by pushing through a stand of it. Just because he hadn't run into it yet didn't mean it wasn't there.

Rubbing sticky sap from his fingers, he checked Nataku's camouflage for the third time before reluctantly concluding that he couldn't do much to improve it. He turned away to make yet another circuit of the little mini-valley, and suddenly found his mouth watering at a faint, tangy scent.

_...Citrus?_ It wasn't quite lemon, or grapefruit, but something in between.

Come to think of it, he hadn't had anything like citrus since he'd arrived in this world.

_I can always consider this scurvy prevention,_ he decided, and set off to track down the smell.

- - - - - -

_I wonder if there used to be a garden here?_ he thought, sizing up his discovery twenty minutes later. That was certainly a possible explanation for why half a dozen of the small, shrubby trees were clustered together in the same area, but on the other hand they were completely surrounded by huge hardwoods that had obviously been there for a long, long time. _Or perhaps a bird ate some fruit and spread the seeds. I suppose it doesn't really matter._

What did matter was that although he didn't recognise the fruit studded along the thorny branches, they were clearly some sort of citrus. They looked a little like small limes, peeled like mandarins, segmented easily, and when he cautiously tasted a little of the juice he decided that the flavour was rather like pink grapefruit shot with lemon.

_I could definitely get to like these,_ he decided, finishing the first one and taking off his shirt to use as a makeshift bag. _I hope they're commonly grown! I'll take all the ripe ones just in case, though - I'd kick myself if I passed up the chance and it turns out they're not popular._

Moving around to pick from the other side of the first tree, he stopped to check an area where several parallel cuts had been made in the bark. Sap had dribbled down to congeal in a sticky mass, and it looked as if globs of it had been scraped away.

_Knife cuts, not claw marks,_ he decided, tentatively feeling at the dribbled sap. _This has mostly hardened, sealing the cuts; I don't know how long that takes, but I would guess at least several days. I don't see any tracks. Why would someone collect sap from a citrus tree, though? Is it used for medicine?_ The only parallels he could think of were willow bark, used for the aspirin-like painkiller found in it, and opium farming.

_Opium's definitely not citrus, though,_ he thought dryly. Sniffing carefully at the pungent sap - which was probably how he'd found the trees in the first place, he realised - he eventually shrugged, giving up on the puzzle for now. _All I smell is citrus. I'd think it was children playing some sort of game, or gathering sap to use as chewing gum, if these weren't out in the middle of nowhere!_

_I'll ask Karthan and the others later._

* * * * *

"S? Is your boy bothering you about this ridiculous idea, too?"

"It's not exactly ridiculous," S protested, looking up from his computer. "We did tell them we could probably duplicate the effect, you know."

J snorted, crossing his arms. "Just because we can do it doesn't mean it's a good idea! We also told them we couldn't duplicate whatever happened **next**."

"I get the distinct impression they're planning to 'wing it'," S said dryly.

"And you think it's a good idea to let them?"

"No."

"Then why are you helping them?!"

S sighed, turning away from his keyboard and giving J his full attention. "Because if I don't help them, they're fully capable of trying to do this by themselves. Do you think they can build one of these things and time the energy surge precisely enough for it to work as intended?"

J snorted again. "Not a chance in a million."

"Which means they'll **die**." He met J's eyes for a long moment, until the other scientist looked away. "The best I can do for them is to make sure they understand all the risks - which they do - and then help them do whatever it is they choose. Well, they've chosen."

"But this is **insane**!" J burst out. "The absolute best that's going to happen is that they end up in a strange world, which **won't** be the one Chang is in, and have to deal with whatever they find with no allies, no support system, nothing! How is this a useful course of action?"

"At least they'll be doing something," S shrugged. "And... well, Trowa indicated they may have a way to track Chang."

J blinked. "Did he say what it was?"

"No."

"Then how are we supposed to set anything up to help them?!"

"I'm sure they'll let us know at some point."

"Which will probably be too late for us to incorporate whatever it is into the main design!" J huffed angrily, turning away. "I'm going to call Heero and give him a piece of my mind. Withholding critical information, he knows better-" The door slammed, cutting his mutters off.

S smiled gently, turning back to his computer. "Well, that got **him** back on task. Now for those power curve calculations..."

* * * * *

"Sis? Are you busy?"

Chemalka Orfressa looked towards the door of her quarters, and smothered a laugh as she saw her older brother peering in around the edge of it. "No, I've got nothing much happening right now. What is it, Korthrala?"

"What would you need to make the Saram River rise?"

"The Saram?" Chemalka's gaze went distant for a moment, then snapped back into focus. "It's not prone to flooding, and it's not due for another for a while yet. Why?"

"Um. I meant," Korthrala started again, "what would you **neeeed**, to make the Saram rise?"

"...Are you waggling your eyebrows at me?"

"Yes."

"What are- oh, get in here, you look silly peeking around the door like that. Brother, are you actually trying to **bribe** me to warp weather patterns?!"

"Er... that depends. Would it work?" Korthrala looked sheepish.

"Sit," she told him, pointing commandingly to a chair that appeared out of nothing behind him. "And talk. What is so important that you need this river to flood for, hm?"

He sighed and sat, hands clasped between his knees. "One of My captains needs to get a message to Hurgrum, fast. He can't take the Spear river to get close to the city, because of the Purple Lords' embargo on foreign ships, so he's going up the Bellwater to the Saram."

"One of **your** captains?" she interrupted, surprised. "As in, a sea captain? He's taking a blue-water ship up the **Saram**?"

"See, you understand!" he said enthusiastically, gesturing. "The Saram isn't navigable by a keeled ship above Derm, it's got too many shallows, so when Evark finds that out he's going to have to make port at Derm and take Brandark cross-country. But that's too slow, and Brandark's really not well enough for a cart ride, so if you could just make the Saram flood a little..." He trailed off, looking at her hopefully.

"Korthrala, making the headwaters of the Saram navigable by a blue-water ship will take more than a **little** flood," she said dryly. "I'm not going to warp weather patterns over half of Norfressa for the next month and get Toragan angry at me for drowning one of his forests just to speed up one message!"

"But it's an **important** message!"

"What is it, then?"

"I don't know." At her look, he spread his hands. "Really! I don't know, exactly, just that it's something to do with Sharna. It's one of those ones where you can feel which mortal task is important but not why, you know?"

"I don't work with mortals, so no," she sighed.

He perked up suddenly. "Oh! And it's a Marfanger ship!"

"Which means?"

"It's kind of small, and it's got a shallow keel! It doesn't draw nearly as much water as most blue-water ships, so it really does need just a little flood, honest. Maybe not even a flood, just a - a swell?"

It was Chemalka's turn to sigh. "Let me take another look," she told him, eyes going distant again as she examined weather patterns.

"Do you know which branch of the Upper Saram your captain is likely to take if he thinks they'll be navigable?" she asked eventually, still gazing off into the mists. "There are a couple of possibilities."

"Uh - no," Korthrala admitted. "I don't do rivers much. He'll probably ask the locals about it."

"Hm. Well, I can do you a swell," she started, and he jumped up.

"Really? Thank you!"

"**Just** a swell!" she insisted, focussing on him. "And I'm only going to do it for **part** of the Upper Saram, so you're going to need to get word to him about which way to go. The rest is up to him; I hope he finds a good pilot!"

"He will!" he assured her, then paused. "Huh. I need to... hm..." His own eyes went distant, and he frowned. "He can't get there in time... um... she's busy... I don't have anyone in the right place inland. I might have to borrow one of Torframos's mortals again..."

"Isn't there somebody Father uses in Derm?" Chemalka asked, propping her chin on one hand. "I've heard Semkirk talk about him. Someone who can hear most of us?"

"In Derm-? Oh! **Him**!" Korthrala looked queasy. "I don't really want to use **him**..."

"Well, if you want to get your captain going up the right river, you might need to."

"Ugh. Oh well. Thanks so much, Chemalka!"

"Hold it," she said, stopping him before he could get out the door. "Now let's talk about that eyebrow-waggle implied bribe..."

* * * * *

"Kairic! Get in here!"

"Yes, my lord?"

By seeming to kill Lord Yithar's cousin Major Taihar - and by being the only one of Yithar's guardsmen allowed to survive that mess - Kairic had earned a promotion to head Yithar's personal guard. Even before his lord had picked up the emerald-hilted sword that he now carried everywhere, the human guardsman would have considered that a very mixed blessing; as things were now, he considered it a special miracle that he was still alive. He certainly didn't plan to keep his new position long enough to find out if it came with a raise.

"We need to head out," Yithar told him, staring out the window of his study with one hand on the hilt of his new sword. "South-west."

"Certainly, my lord. Did you have a particular destination in mind, or any specific preparations you would like made?"

"Not really," the half-elf said absently. "Just... that way. Bring everyone."

"Yes, my lord. I'll make the preparations and let you know as soon as we're ready to leave," Kairic murmured, bowing himself out.

_That sword is giving the orders,_ he thought, hurrying down the stairs. _Which means we'll be heading off to kill someone. Someone the Scorpion wants dead... so, a Champion, or a priest, or just someone who's caused Sharna enough trouble to get him mad. And __**that**__ means Yithar probably wants all his guardsmen along to get in their way, and die, to make his job easier._

_No thanks. I wasn't expecting to get a chance this soon, but now that I've got it I'm taking it!_

"Lord Yithar does not wish to be disturbed," he said curtly to the guards flanking the bottom of the stairs.

"Yessir," they muttered, watching him go. Neither he nor Yithar had given any explanation for their return minus three guardsmen the day before, him because he hadn't been able to think of anything to say and Yithar... well, Yithar probably hadn't realised that anyone had noticed. Guardsmen were interchangeable, after all. As a result, all the other guards and half the servants were on edge.

_Which should make this easier,_ he decided, and abruptly changed directions. _Nobody's going to bother him to ask for confirmation of anything I choose to say._

Tyllar, the first of Yithar's guardsmen to die the day before, had actually been the only other guard Kairic had considered something of a friend; given that the easiest way to deflect their lord's temper was to redirect it to someone else, they tended to regard each other more as targets and enemies than comrades in arms.

_...And that makes this a __**lot**__ easier,_ Kairic thought grimly. _There's only a couple of people I care about enough to warn._

"Ah, there you are, lad," the elderly cook said, eyes wary until she saw that he was alone. "Does his lordship want something?"

"Not at present, but there is something you need to do," he said pleasantly, heading straight past her into the massive pantry. "Come here for a moment, Alin, I need to explain the details..."

Alone in the dim, cool room, he turned to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I'm running, Alin, and you need to go too. It's not safe here any more. Have you got money?"

"A little, but- Kairic, you know we can't leave!" Alin hissed. "We won't just have to dodge Himself, he'll have all his relatives and the army looking for us just out of spite! What in the world is going on?"

"He's got a new sword, Alin. He picked it up yesterday. It has a **scorpion** on it, Alin, that's what's going on, and that's why Tyllar and the others didn't come home with us last night. It's sending him after someone, and I don't think he can argue with it long enough to come after us himself, but staying here would be a **really** bad idea. You and your girls have to get out."

Alin had stiffened, eyes wide. "...You've seen it? It's not just a story?"

"It's real. Get out and go somewhere else, Alin; go **anywhere**. Just don't go south-west."

She was silent a moment, studying his eyes; then she nodded. "Himself gave me money for provisioning just last five-day," she whispered back. "That'll get us a good long way up the Spear. Do you need any?"

"I'll be fine." On impulse, he hugged her. "Go well, Alin."

"Go well," she choked out, hugging him back. "Lillinara light your path, Kairic, and bless you for warning us."

As he left, she was calling the two kitchenmaids to her. "Girls, come now, we need to go buy some things for the lord. Get the donkey cart and fetch your cloaks, hurry lass, he's in a bit of a bait..."

_That's taken care of,_ he thought, feeling much better. _She's a clever woman and the girls aren't fools either; they've got at least as good a chance as I do. Time to make the best of mine! Two remounts, travel light and fast, make the best time I can to... to... where? Not Bortalik. Not Marfang Island; whatever that sword is after, it's in that direction. Which way, then?_

_...North,_ he decided. _Head out by the road to Bortalik, then once I'm out of sight swing north and head cross-country to Sindark. I'll decide where to next once I'm there; then I can buy passage down the Darkwater, or up towards Alfroma, or... anywhere, really. North first, though. I should be able to make a good few leagues before that twit realises it's taking me too long to get back to him._

* * * * *

/ /warning/ /

Wufei stirred in his sleep, wincing as one of his few remaining unhealed cuts stung. He was napping in the pilot's chair, trying to get some rest before nightfall, but there was something making his dreams uneasy...

/ /warning/ /

/ /danger/ /

/ /warning!/ /

"What?" he mumbled, stirring slightly.

/ /DANGER!/ /

He snapped awake, gasping. Instinct sent his hands flying, bringing screens to life and activating scans, searching for the threat and finding-

Nothing. The screens were blank.

"Ugh. Was I dreaming?" He relaxed slightly, rubbing at his eyes. It had seemed so clear for a moment...

/ /warning!/ /

"...Who's there?" he asked slowly, looking around. _It's not Krashnark. I don't feel anyone watching me, but that was __**not**__ my emotion!_

/ /warning/danger/urgency/ /

"What sort of danger?"

/ /impatience/warning!/ /

"That's not helping! Danger from where?"

/ /frustration/ /

Wufei growled under his breath, bringing more of Nataku's systems active. _I'll lose the camouflage net, but I'm not about to take the time to strike it properly._ "You can't just show up and **talk** to me? Everyone else seems to!"

/ /frustration/amusement/frustration/ /

"Fine. How about this?" Sitting Nataku up, Wufei pointed directly north, then began swinging his hand slowly eastward.

As he pointed roughly east-north-east, the emotional surge came again.

/ /danger!/ /

"Is there another?"

/ /negation/ /

"Right. Thank you." _Nataku! Long-range scan, on this bearing._

* *UNIDENTIFIED ENERGY SOURCE* *  
* *RANGE: 31.2 MILES* *

_Sharna. Something he's doing, anyway. Another demon?_

Pulling clear of the camouflage, Nataku stood up and stepped out of the dip. About to turn towards the beach, Wufei hesitated, turning back towards the energy reading. _If it's another demon, I should-_

/ /NEGATION!/DANGER!/ /

"Gah! Don't **do** that!"

/ /apology/danger!/ /

"As Duo would say, 'Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!'" Wufei muttered, rubbing his abruptly-throbbing temples.

/ /affirmation/amusement/ /

"Heh, yes, he's- wait. You know **Duo**?"

/ /affirmation/ / The emotional surge was startlingly matter-of-fact.

"...**How**?!"

/ /.../ /

/ /distance/connection/kinship/ /

"...This is ridiculous. Krashnark?!"

There was barely a pause before the answer. _=*Yes?*=_

"Who's talking to me?"

The tone of the reply was rather puzzled. _=*What do you mean?*=_

"**Somebody**, I assume a god, just woke me up and warned me about something Sharna is doing about ten leagues that way." Wufei pointed impatiently. "All I'm getting from them is emotion, though, and I don't have time for this. Who is it?"

_=*...I should be able to tell if another god was speaking to you, and I don't-*=_

/ /amusement/ /

_=*-__**what**__?!*=_

"That was rather my reaction too," Wufei said dryly. "Who's that?"

_=*Orfressa?!*=_

/ /affirmation/ /

/ /impatience/warning/danger/ /

_=*Danger? What's my idiot brother up to?*=_

"I was hoping you could tell **me**."

_=*Let me-*=_ The mental connection **hissed** for a moment with anger- and, Wufei realised with a start, a little fear. _=*Ah. She's right, Wufei, you need to leave. That's... My little brother has broken a couple of rules to do that, and it's very dangerous.*=_

"So I should just run away and leave whatever that is to do whatever Sharna wants?!"

_=*__**That**__ is a full-fledged Champion of Sharna, carrying a sword that is effectively a gateway straight to my brother. If it even scratches you - or, I suspect, touches __**Nataku**__ - you will die, and I will not be able to protect you. I think it was originally aimed at someone else, but it's been repurposed to hunt you.*=_ Krashnark's tone lightened slightly. _=*You really have pissed him off. In any case, since it's after you, it's... not exactly harmless to others, or even close to it, but the Champion shouldn't be able to spend much time playing around.*=_

"How do I stop it?"

_=*You don't. A Champion does, or preferably more than one. You run away. __**Please**__.*=_

/ /agreement/ /

"Wonderful," Wufei muttered, turning Nataku towards the ocean. "Now I really have a lot to talk to Karthan about..."

- - - - - -

_Karthan!_

Fifteen leagues up the coast, on board the _Osprey_ and heading north at speed, Karthan blinked. _Yes? What is it, Wufei?_

_Can you get Uthmar and Arwen somewhere private to talk to them? Something - multiple somethings - just came up._

_...I think so, yes. Give me a moment._

Spotting Uthmar first, Karthan headed in his direction as fast as he could, considering that the deck was on at least a fifteen-degree tilt and bucking up and down. Several of the Order's lay brothers were scattered around the railing, looking pale.

"Sir Uthmar?" he asked politely, nodding at the ship's captain in apology as he interrupted their quiet conversation. "Might I have a word with you and Sir Arwen in private?"

"In a-" Seeing his face, Uthmar cut himself off and frowned. "All right. Captain, is there somewhere we could go?"

"Aye, there's my cabin, but it's a bit low-ceilinged for even you," the halfling shrugged. "Or you could have your talk here, and my men and I will give you some room."

"Thank you. **Sir Arwen**!" the dwarf Champion bellowed.

"Coming!"

Once the human had joined them, Uthmar cocked his head to bring his fellow Champion down to dwarven head height, then looked at Karthan. "Well?"

"It's Wufei. One moment." _Wufei?_

_Torframos needs to hear this._

_Really?_ Eyebrows raised, Karthan passed that on.

"Huh. Torframos?" Arwen asked, glancing upwards. "Are you there?"

=*I am now,*= came the familiar voice out of nowhere, quieter than normal. =*I gather we're being subtle?*=

"Possibly," Karthan shrugged, rolling his eyes. _He's here._

_Will you lend me your voice and ears? This is going to take long enough even without you having to repeat everything both ways._

_The way you've 'borrowed' before? All right._

From the others' point of view, Karthan blinked a couple of times, then straightened, expression shifting. "We have a problem," he said grimly, voice overlaid strangely with Wufei's tones. "Or rather, **I** have a problem, but you aren't going to like it either."

"What is it?" Uthmar asked, frowning again.

"In order? Sharna has a Champion ten leagues from where I am now. He or she is carrying a sword that Krashnark called a 'gateway', and is apparently tracking me. I have been told to run away, and am doing so, but judging from the commotion in the harbour I'm pretty sure at least one lookout from Marfang Island saw Nataku before I got underwater. And for the icing on the cake," he carried on, rolling right over Arwen as the human spat out an oath, "**Orfressa** delivered the original warning. From the way Krashnark reacted, I gather that's not usual? Oh- and she knows Duo. Somehow. Even though I'm **fairly** sure he's still in the world I came from."

=***Grandma** warned you?!*= Torframos squeaked. =*Father said she 'knew what she was doing', but she **spoke** to you?!*=

"Not in words, but I got the message all the same. Is this bad?"

Arwen swallowed, paling. "Well, we told you Orfressa doesn't notice mortals, but... sometimes she does, and when she does things can go **very badly**."

"Very," Uthmar agreed quietly, apparently chewing on a strand of his moustache. "This Champion of Sharna with a 'gateway' sword, though, what's that mean?"

Karthan/Wufei shrugged. "Krashnark said he broke some rules to make it. Frankly? Orfressa seems pleasant enough and certainly didn't do anything to me right away, so I'm far more worried about the sword."

=*As you should be,*= Torframos confirmed. =*G-Orfressa doesn't do anything without a good reason, whether the rest of us understand it or not. A sword that could be termed a 'gateway', though... there are only a couple of things I can think of that could be described that way, and they're **bad**.*=

"We should turn back then," Arwen said grimly. Uthmar nodded.

Torframos made a noncommittal noise. =*Perhaps,*= he said slowly.

"Perhaps?!" the human Champion yelped, then glanced around and lowered his voice again. "Torframos - my lord - something like this is what we're **for**!"

=*True. However, you're also needed up north, and if that sword is actually aimed at Wufei I don't want to bring him back within range of it. There are chapterhouses of at least three Orders in Bortalik, Arwen; you are not the only possible solution to this problem. -No, keep alert in case anything else is moving, but continue north. Now that I know about this Champion and the sword, My siblings and I can take steps.*=

* * * * *

"He's getting **away**!"

The guardsmen flanking the stairway exchanged nervous glances at the shriek of frustration and rage, then stiffened to attention as a door slammed open above them. Yithar ran down the stairs, taking two and three steps at a time, and slammed to a halt between them.

"Kairic? **Kairic**!" Panting, he glared around, then focussed abruptly on the guards. "Why aren't you getting ready to move out?!"

"Uh... my lord?"

"Where's Kairic?"

The guardsman swallowed, pointing towards the rear of the manor. "I don't know, my lord. He told us you didn't want to be disturbed, and went that way."

Yithar snarled. "Fine. You, both of you, get ready to leave. Horses, armour, all that sort of thing," he added, waving one hand dismissively; the other stayed clenched tight on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Tell the others. Get my horse ready, and be quick about it. **I'm** going to go find Kairic."

But Kairic was nowhere to be found.

- - - - - -

By the time Major Rathan No'hai Taihar rode in through the gates of his cousin's manor, accompanied by a regiment of the Council's army, four priests, and a Champion of Lillinara, Yithar was gone. Half of his guard force had been ready to go when he came storming back from his futile search; the other half had still been saddling up or scrambling into their armour, and had been left behind.

"You say he went south-west?" Rathan asked again, glaring at the gatekeeper.

"Aye, sir. Well, a couple of points west of south-west to be precise," the human nodded. "He was in a right bait, too," the gatekeeper added, sizing up the major's mood and deciding that he was unlikely to be offended on his cousin's behalf. "Mad as a cut snake an' yelling about someone 'getting away'."

"Did he say who, exactly, he was after?"

"Not as such, sir." The gatekeeper scratched his chin. "Just 'hurry up, he's moving,' an' so on. He was in such a rush, first trying to find Kairic an' then going after whoever it was. None of 'em had remounts, so whoever he's after'd best not be far away, the way he was whipping 'em on."

"'Kairic'?"

"Himself's new guard commander, as of yesterday," the human shrugged. "Yeller-haired human, a bit taller than me. I dunno what happened yesterday, but the lord rode out with Kairic an' three others when he went to answer your message, sir, an' came back with just him."

"**Ah**." Rathan's eyes narrowed. "I believe I know the man. He's missing?"

"Aye. Rode out on the road to Bortalik about a candlemark before the lord started looking for him."

For the first time that day, Rathan smiled - smirked, really. "Good to know he still has his wits about him."

- - - - - -

Riding back from the beach, Yithar had most of his attention on the mental conversation he was having. His guardsmen were straggling behind him, unwilling to approach him while he was in a bad mood, some gentling along horses that had strained legs or thrown shoes in their headlong rush to the coast over uneven ground.

_=*Damn that demon! Slippery bastard,*=_ Sharna raged. _=*I want him __**dead**__, curse it!*=_

_So do I!_ Yithar snarled back. _There's only so many places he can go. We'll find him._

_=*If you'd been faster getting on the road, instead of wasting time looking for that human-*=_

_You were the one yelling at me to not let Kairic get away!_

_=*You should have killed him yesterday! I __**said**__ no witnesses!*=_

_Well if you weren't happy with me leaving him alive you should have said something then! You agreed with me that it would be convenient if I had a guard captain who knew what was going on. Besides-_

_=*Shut up. Just __**shut up**__.*=_

Yithar fell silent, pouting. Sharna was silent too, and the half-elf rode along in both inner and outer silence for a few minutes.

_=*Right,*=_ Sharna said eventually, calmer now. _=*You need to prepare for a longer trip, and leave before that human can reach Bortalik and bring back forces to... 'deal' with you. Of course, he might not manage it.*=_

_What do you mean?_

The god's voice positively **sniggered**. _=*Half of the Council of Lords serve my sisters, or Fiendark, or __**me**__. If he talks to the wrong person first, they'll take care of him for us.*=_

Yithar grinned nastily. _Oh, I like that idea._

_=*Best not depend on it,*=_ Sharna warned.

_I won't. Still, even if he talks to the right person - wrong person, from our point of view - and convinces them that he's not either insane or lying, any force he can raise can't possibly make it back here from Bortalik until late tomorrow-_

His tired horse lifted its head as they left the shade of the Shipwood's immense trees and moved onto the road. It knew it was close to familiar stables, warm grain and a rubdown from the grooms, and its stride lengthened as it turned towards home. Yithar's gaze lifted too, anticipating hot mulled wine and a bath.

"My lord?" one of his guardsmen asked tentatively, kneeing his mount forward to come within earshot. "Were you expecting your cousin? That's him, isn't it, with the army?"

Yithar's horse squealed as he hauled on the reins, staring in shock. Those were his cousin's banners, and a milling crowd of soldiers on horseback, light glinting off spearheads and swordhilts- _How? He was __**dead**__, I saw him, Kairic stabbed-_

_Kairic. Damn him for a traitorous bastard, Kairic __**faked**__ it-_

_=*Move,*=_ Sharna said abruptly. _=*Head north. Get off the road. There's a champion of Lillinara down there, and priests of Korthrala and Orr. I am __**not**__ going to lose you and that sword because you hang about here gaping like a fool, get going north!*=_

* * * * *

[ [ What's this nonsense about you having a way to track Chang? ] ]

Heero raised an eyebrow at Doctor J's image on his laptop, then turned back to the weight calculations the call had interrupted. "It's not nonsense."

[ [ Oh? Then why didn't you mention it before? ] ]

"It wasn't relevant." He grimaced inwardly as he heard the faint defensive note in his voice, knowing that J would hear it too.

[ [ Not relevant?! How is it not relevant? You're demanding we help blow you out of this universe, unleashing enough energy to destroy you if we get anything wrong, and you don't think telling us about something that might throw our calculations off is **relevant**? Whatever device you've MacGyvered up has got to be drawing sufficient power to potentially interfere- ] ]

"It's not a **device**," Heero interrupted, pushing his notes away and turning back to the laptop. "Duo and Quatre can track Wufei."

The expected derision didn't come. Doctor J raised one eyebrow, mechanical eyes refocussing. [ [ Maxwell and Winner? Is this something to do with Winner's empathy? ] ] At Heero's dumbfounded look, he snorted. [ [ H quantified it scientifically years ago, it's not as if we're talking about some fake medium using cold reading to contact the dead on a broadcast show. So Maxwell has something similar? ] ]

Heero blinked. "Ah... sort of. He and Wufei have a link."

[ [ You've confirmed this? ] ]

"Quatre has..."

[ [ Hmph. Good enough, I suppose. I don't see how knowing where Chang ended up is supposed to help you get to the same universe as him, though. ] ]

"They've, uh, managed to communicate. We're planning to wait until after they talk again, and get Wufei to duplicate the conditions on his end that actually pulled him into that universe." Heero closed his mouth firmly, staring J down and almost daring him to demand further explanations. _I am __**not**__ going to tell him about gods stalking Wufei and 'needy' goddesses popping in to chat to Duo in the kitchen! It's surprising enough that he's willing to accept Quatre's empathy and Duo being linked to Wufei somehow..._

J raised the other eyebrow this time. [ [ Managed to communicate? Hmm. Interesting. You know, if we'd just known this was going to happen we could have planned a series of experiments to determine the relative energy levels of the universes involved... hmm. ] ]

"If we'd known this was going to happen, it wouldn't have happened," Heero pointed out dryly.

[ [ Hah! True. ] ] J snorted again. [ [ Well. Fine. So we don't need to allow for some sort of Chang-sensor device in our calculations, good. Is there anything you're planning that we **do** need to allow for? ] ]

"Luggage?" Heero shrugged. "We have some rather extensive plans for things to take with us."

[ [ Going prepared? That's the most sensible thing you've said to me in weeks, ] ] J grumbled half-heartedly. [ [ All right, get us some mass and volume calculations as soon as you've worked them out and we'll determine the best way to arrange things. J out. ] ]

Heero breathed out a sigh of relief and leaned back in his chair as the com window closed. _Phew. Duo's right, being truthful while not telling everything __**is**__ harder than lying..._


	37. Chapter 36

Dusk in the Shipwood was a strange blend of light and darkness. The tall, straight trees that let through a reasonable amount of sunlight in the middle of the day began to block more and more as the sun slid towards the horizon, but they also kept the undergrowth down to scattered patches of brambles and tall ferns; what light did penetrate the trees travelled unimpeded for a long way, angled golden shafts spotlighting random clearings. Kairic's horses kept heading for the lit areas, objecting with muffled snorts when he steered them away.

The guardsman cursed mildly as his gelding sidestepped yet again, reining it back on course and patting its neck in apology. _It's a pity I can't explain things,_ he thought, _but even the smartest horse isn't going to understand things like 'ruining what night vision I've managed to develop' or 'being seen for miles'. Or, for that matter, 'crazed Champion of Sharna with a cursed sword somewhere behind us'... and whatever else he may be, Greediguts is not a smart horse._

The gelding was living up to its nickname by snatching mouthfuls of leaves from whatever was close enough, not caring whether or not it was technically edible. "Oh stop that, you blithering imbecile," Kairic scolded quietly, tugging his mount away from a tall stand of ferns and borrowing freely from Yithar's store of insults. "You may not have managed to poison yourself yet, but I don't have the time to nurse you through another bout of colic-"

Intent on the ferns, Greediguts ducked his head and yanked left, bunny-hopping sideways with the agility that made him Kairic's favourite horse despite his habits. One of the led horses shied, jerking its lead rope, Kairic's weight shifted, Greediguts' left forehoof slid on a root and he went down with a crash.

"Fuck," Kairic groaned, untangling himself from the ferns and cautiously poking his bruises. Greediguts had rolled to his feet almost immediately and was standing calmly, quizzically observing his rider with half a fern frond sticking out of his mouth, jaws moving rhythmically... and holding his left fore up so that the tip of his hoof barely touched the ground. The shoe on that hoof had wrenched half off and was dangling by a single nail.

"I hope that Phrobus-cursed fern is **delicious**, you moronic beast, because it'll have to be bloody well incredible to be worth the delay you just caused!"

- - - - - -

Apparently the ferns **were** particularly tasty, because the two remounts joined Greediguts in stripping all the young fronds and half of the older ones off the nearest one as the guardsman - ex-guardsman now, he supposed - worked to transfer his tack. The fern was looking rather dilapidated by the time he was finished.

_I still won't be able to go as fast as I was,_ Kairic thought, frowning as he ran one hand down Greediguts' leg. Once the dangling shoe had been removed, the horse had gone back to standing normally, but there was a spot of heat indicating a strained muscle and he moved with a definite limp. _I should probably leave him... no. It doesn't seem too serious. I can poultice it at night, and if I can just get him re-shoed he should heal fast. Besides, if I'm reduced to two mounts I'll have to slow down anyway._

Frowning as he considered his mental map of the area, Kairic didn't notice the approaching hoofbeats until Greediguts lifted his head and snorted, looking south.

_One horse, coming fast._ Glancing around in the growing dark, he led the horses deeper into the ferns and shortened his grip on the reins and lead ropes, holding them as still as he could manage. _It could be completely unrelated to that mess, but I wouldn't bet a copper kormak on it-_

Lord Yithar came into view, teeth clenched in a snarl. His horse was obviously exhausted, gait uneven, but he flogged it on mercilessly and there was **something**, a scent or a glint or a haze of green, that told Kairic the lash wasn't all that was keeping the poor beast at a gallop. He passed the stand of ferns without a glance and continued northwards, shooting nervous glances back over his shoulder.

_He's heading for Sindark,_ Kairic realised, staring after him and feeling a cold chill down his spine as he realised what a narrow escape he'd had. _Right down the same route I was taking. The way he's going, he would have come up behind me just before I reached town._

"Damn," he whispered, stroking Greediguts' nose. "Horse, I swear, so long as they don't give you colic I will pick **bushels** of these damn ferns for you with my own hands, whenever you like."

_All right then,_ he thought, taking a deep, shaky breath. _Sindark is out, but I still need to get to a blacksmith._

_...Well, I know one village Yithar isn't going to want to visit again..._

* * * * *

Eyeing one particular sonar return, a fleeting there-and-gone-again shadow at the very limit of Nataku's scanner range, Wufei considered the possibility of sea monsters. _Sea demons? Kraken? I know Karthan's encountered an actual dragon, but the bit of that memory I saw indicated it was living in a mountain pass... are there sea dragons here as well?_

_Surely Uthmar would have mentioned the possibility. Unless he thought I could handle whatever was likely to show up._

Another sonar return blinked into view to the south, behind them, and he dismissed thoughts of tentacles from the deep as he eyed it. _Two ships- no, three- moving faster than us, if they're coming into view from behind- wow. Moving a __**lot**__ faster than us,_ he thought, eyebrows lifting as the symbols on his screen inched upwards. _And I thought the Osprey was fast for something at its technological level._

_Karthan?_ he sent, flinging the thought upwards. _There are some ships coming up from the south, fast. Are they in view yet?_

- - - - - -

Twisting to stare backwards over the _Osprey_'s stern, Karthan squinted into the distance, shielding his eyes from the lantern hung on the taffrail. _I can't see anything, and the lookout hasn't reported them,_ he thought back. _Can you tell whose ships they are?_

The reply felt amused. _At this point all I know is that they're there, they're fast, and they probably have more metal in their construction than usual; the sonar return is surprisingly clear. If it's true that Marfangers have all the best ships, they're probably from Marfang Island. Do they have a navy?_

_Sort of. If I remember rightly, any Marfanger ship over a certain size can be called up in time of war, or if they're about to run a campaign against pirates,_ Karthan sent slowly, thinking back, _but they are said to have a few purpose-built armed ships that sort of hang around the island, trying not to look obviously threatening. Are they looking for you, do you think?_

_Unless something __**else**__ has happened to upset them, probably. I did get well underwater before turning north, though, so they can't be sure I came this way._

Karthan squinted again, peering south at a flicker of light that might be a reflection from a wave, or something else. _I think I see-_

"Sail ho!" the lookout called down from his perch at the top of the mainmast. "Three sails, dead astern! Showing green!"

"They signalling?" the captain called back.

"No- aye, now they are! Three and two!"

The captain scowled, then glanced at the last flickers of sunset to the west and sighed. "Ah well, we'd be dropping anchor soon anyway. Strike sail!"

"Three and two?" Arwen inquired mildly, watching the sudden activity as sailors hauled on ropes and the first sail came flapping down.

The halfling grunted, glancing up at him before turning to stare south. "Marfang code. 'Heave to' and 'warning'; there's something in the area they think we should know about, or else they want to check to make sure **we're** not what they're warning people about. Either way, it boils down to 'stop'."

The _Osprey_ slowed, returning to a more even keel as its sails were furled, and the less seaworthy members of the Order of Torframos sighed in relief as its motion gentled. Karthan had a general idea of where Wufei was - the mental link had a directional 'feel' to it - and sensed him stopping too, deep down below the ship.

The following ships caught up quickly now, navigational lamps at masthead and midships showing first; the green of their flags and the mainsail of the foremost ship became visible next, and last the low-slung black hulls. Water frothed oddly in front of their bows, as if the bow wave was being projected by something in front of the visible hull, and Karthan glimpsed a gleaming copper-sheathed ram as the lead ship pitched over a wave and it lifted out of the water for a moment.

_Marfanger warships all right,_ he thought to Wufei, _and these look to be the ones that don't do very well at not looking threatening! You did stir them up._

_Given a choice between worrying the halflings and sticking around to face something two gods are telling me to run away from, I'll- well, it wasn't my preferred choice, but I went with worrying the halflings,_ Wufei reminded him dryly. _The alternative was having Orfressa yell at me again, and it was giving me a headache._

"Ahoy there!" the _Osprey_'s captain roared through a leather megaphone. "What ships?"

"_Whitetip_, _Reef_ and _Harpoon_!" came the bellowed response. "What ship, and where to?"

"_Osprey_, on a charter to Belhadan! What's all this about?"

The lead ship heeled into a tight turn, swinging around the _Osprey_ and pointing into the wind, booms swinging its sails out to either side to catch air and bring it to a near-total stop. Rigging groaned at the sudden strain and the ship seemed to curtsey, bowsprit rising high above the waves, but the manoeuvre was expertly performed and the halflings on board the _Osprey_ muttered in admiration. Close enough now for voices to carry without support, the first ship's spokesman leaned on the rail and shouted across as the other two plunged onward.

"Seen anything in the last few hours?"

"Oh, aye," _Osprey_'s captain called back sarcastically, "wind and water and Purple Lord shit-bucket boats. You looking for anything in particular?"

"You'd know it if you saw it," the other halfling said grimly, ignoring the almost-joke. "There was a demon sighted off Marfang, a bit past noon, shaped like a giant in armour. It got underwater and then headed north; we're chasing it."

_How do they know?!_ Karthan thought, only half-listening as the crew reacted, mostly by swearing. _Wufei! They know you went north!_

_How?!_ Wufei responded, just as surprised. _I was well underwater! They can't possibly have __**seen**__ me to follow me!_

"Hells! Well, we haven't seen anything like that, thank Korthrala," _Osprey_'s captain confirmed, rubbing one horn nervously. "Are you sure it went north? I have to admit, I'd not be one for chasing it myself..." He glanced uneasily sideways at Arwen, as if he expected the human champion to demand they immediately join the hunt.

The halfling on the _Whitetip_ snorted. "A water demon, hiding in the sea? That's **our** territory; we're not about to leave the Dark Gods' muck in it. It won't be the first time we've cleaned up their mess, either!"

The warship's crew certainly didn't look nervous, standing watch in shining mail and half-plate instead of the cloth and leather usual for seamen. There was one in dark blue robes, standing by the steersman and looking subtly out of place, but the rest appeared grim yet confident. Wickedly barbed harpoons and spears seemed to be the ship's main weapons, including several that were set up to be fired from large dart-throwers mounted at bow and stern.

"If you can, y' might want to head back to Refuge and wait a couple days before going north. Adric!" the newcomer called, turning away from the rail and making a circling-around gesture with one hand to the steersman. "Give us a new bearing!"

_Whitetip_ began to ease away from the _Osprey_, starting a turn to take her after her consorts. The blue-robed halfling had his hands cupped in front of him, concentrating with his eyes closed.

_...Wufei?_ Karthan sent, seeing what was coming. _I think you're about to be found..._

The robed halfling took a deep breath, opened his eyes and looked down at his cupped hands- and let his breath out in a panicked yell, dropping a small cup that splashed liquid and something metallic across the deck. "Straight down!" he yelled. "It's **under** us!"

_...yep. There they go. Looks like they have a mage on board._

- - - - - -

_Oh, __**lovely**__._ Wufei sighed and nudged at the controls, sending Nataku a little deeper. _I guess I'll be staying put while Uthmar and Arwen explain, then._

_That sounds like the best option,_ Karthan agreed, sounding more amused than worried. _If you surface, you're just going to get a face full of harpoons. Even if they can't hurt Nataku, that's got to be annoying._

_Noisy, at the very least._

- - - - - -

"Calm, Captain Grantik," Uthmar rumbled, laying a gentle hand on the halfling's shoulder. "Your ship's in no danger so long as your countrymen don't start firing at random."

"What- you-" Interrupted in the middle of yelling orders to his crewmen, Grantik let the rest of his breath out in a rush and twisted to stare incredulously at the dwarf. "You- **no danger**, is it? Foam Beard's spit, what the blazes do you call danger if this- wait." Eyes narrowing, he stared up at the dwarf's face, and when he spoke again his voice was calmer and dangerously cold. "Is there something I ought to know you've forgotten to tell me, Champion?"

"Not forgotten, as such," Uthmar shrugged, withdrawing his hand. "You didn't need to know about it before, and - truth be told - we would've preferred to get through this trip without you ever needing to find out. Yes, there's a demon down there, but I swear to you by my axe and Torframos's favour that he's not an enemy."

"...Well now." Grantik stared for another couple of breaths, then turned his head and whistled sharply, getting his crew's attention. "Stand down!" he yelled, making a cutting gesture in the air and then pushing his flattened palm towards the deck. "Stand ready, but hold!"

"Thank you, Cap-"

"There's a long story behind this, I'm betting," the halfling interrupted.

"...Fairly long, yes."

"I hope you've made up your mind to tell me **all** of it, then, because charter or no charter, if I don't find out what's going on I'll be putting the lot of you ashore and you can find out if the damned Wild Wash will give you a ride up to Belhadan," Grantik snarled. "Huh." He glared at Uthmar one more time, then looked away and took a long, slow breath, shaking his shoulders out in a motion that put the dwarf in mind of a seagull settling its feathers.

"Here." Without looking back, the captain held his megaphone out towards Uthmar. "You'll need this if you want to talk the _Whitetip_ and her friends out of turning this not-an-enemy demon of yours into a pincushion."

- - - - - -

"Is it coming up?" Commander Morash snapped at the mage, sparing a moment to pray that the gods-damned **civilian** who was his only means of tracking the demon would hold it together and not panic. _Harpoon_ and _Reef_ were circling back in answer to his signals, weapons ready, but if the thing surprised one of them from below there wasn't much their sister ships would be able to do.

Down on his knees, Adric scrabbled for the compass needle he'd been using as a focus, clapped it between his palms, shut his eyes and concentrated. "...No," he said after a stressful pause, hands shifting slowly as he followed the tug of the needle. "It's staying still?"

"Are you **sure**?" Morash asked, not liking the faint questioning note in the mage's voice.

One eye popped open and shot him an annoyed look, then closed again. "Yes, I'm sure. It just wasn't what I expected."

"Not what I expected either," the commander muttered, staring over the rail. The water was pitch black and unreadable, reflecting their lanterns and showing no sign of what was beneath the surface. His harpooners and dart-men were watching too, ready to fire at the faintest sign of movement. _Not that it'll be a __**faint**__ sign of movement if something that big comes up at us,_ he thought sourly.

"Ahoy, _Whitetip_!" a new voice called from the civilian ship, and he scowled.

"Get clear of the area before the damn thing decides to attack!" he roared back, furious as he realised the fools hadn't even begun to set sail again. "We've enough to do without trying to protect you as well!"

"I am Sir Uthmardanharknar dihna' Shirkanath, Champion of Torframos," the calm voice replied, and his head snapped up to stare across at the other ship. "With me is Sir Arwen Ewansson, also a Champion of Torframos, and fifty-five knights and lay brothers of the Order. The demon you have been tracking, sir, is not a threat to you."

_Because you'll protect us? I doubt it._ Morash snorted. "Ever fought aboard ship, Sir Champion?" he shouted. "It's a bit different to on land! I advise you to stand off and let us handle this!"

"I **mean**," the voice came back patiently, "he's not **evil**. He is travelling in company with us, and I vouch for him!"

There was a long pause as Commander Morash - and, to be fair, every halfling on board both ships who'd heard Uthmar - stared in disbelief.

"...You **what**?"

"I vouch for him," that irritatingly calm voice repeated. "He helped us destroy a temple of Sharna. Torframos himself regards him as an ally of the Order. He isn't going to attack you, sir."

"He's telling the truth," Adric said from behind Morash, and the commander spun around to stare at him instead.

"He's **serious**?!"

Adric shrugged. "He seems to be. At least, he **believes** he's telling the truth. Either what he says is true, or he's completely insane. Frankly, I'm not sure which is more likely."

"**I'm** not sure which option scares me more," Morash told him bluntly, and the mage snickered.

"Man overboard!"

They both jerked around at the splash and shout. The gap at the rail told the commander who, and the harpoon rope rapidly uncoiling as it ran overboard gave him a good idea of what had happened. _Duroshan, he always leans out too far to try to get the first shot, he got distracted and slipped- curse it, he's in full armour, if he can't get out of it and swim up himself there's nothing we can do-!_ One of the harpooner's teammates had dropped his own spear and grabbed for the rope, swearing as it burned his hands. _He's tangled? We can pull him up!_

The rope jerked once or twice as crewmen joined in to haul it up against the weight, then twitched and came up more easily as the tangled halfling slid free. The man who'd grabbed first swore again and dropped it, leaning over the rail to look for signs of Duroshan swimming back up. It was full dark now, and the lantern-light had been joined by the first faint glows of phosphorescence in the water, flickering wherever there was disturbance and outlining the ships' hulls. One long streak of fading blue light showed where Duroshan had gone down.

Deep down, the phosphorescence outlined a monstrous form as something **moved**.

- - - - - -

_One of the warships' crewmen-_

_I see him._ There was some sort of bioluminescent plankton in the waters, outlining the struggling figure in blue as it sank. Wufei activated Nataku's searchlight, setting it to a wide dispersed beam to illuminate as much of the area as possible, and reached out to catch the tiny figure with one metal hand as he nudged the control for the jets. Too hard and the surge of water as he rose would put the ships in danger; too gentle and the flailing halfling would drown on the way up.

Remembering the last time he'd carried someone to meet people who didn't know him yet, he curled Nataku's fingers protectively around the sailor as he broke surface. Nobody fired from the ship the sailor had fallen from, but a series of clangs and tings across the back of the Gundam's head and shoulders told him that one of the other ships was in range. Carefully, making sure not to lean on the rail and swamp or break the ship, he reached across and gently deposited the coughing man on deck in a puddle of faintly glowing water.

"I've got to stop meeting people like this," he said mildly, broadcasting through the external speakers.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Gunnar called from the _Osprey_, leaning casually on the rail and grinning at him. "It's a great way to break the ice."

* * * * *

"If you fall over, Heero's going to very obviously not say anything about it," Quatre said calmly, settling more comfortably into his chair.

"He would, wouldn't he?" Duo grinned, stopping his crutch-assisted one-legged pacing. "He's getting positively sneaky about not lecturing me."

"It works, doesn't it?"

"Hell yeah." Sighing, Duo swung across the hall and plunked down into the chair next to Quatre.

Silence reigned for approximately three seconds before Duo stood up again.

"They're taking an awfully long time in there."

"It's been less than five minutes! **You** were in there for twenty, and Relena managed to not fidget."

"Relena has secret politician ninja training for patience, or something. Princess Zen martial arts. I dunno, whatever it is I don't have it."

"I couldn't tell," Quatre said dryly.

"Ha freakin' ha. Seriously, Q, if he makes her cry again I'm siccing you on him for some major ass-beating. You're up for that, right?"

"...He's in **traction**."

"And you have a point? We're terrorists! We don't go in for fair fights! If we were doing the fair thing **I'd** do the ass-beating seeing as I've got one leg nearly tied behind my back, and he still wouldn't have a chance, so there's no point. You can stick your hands up and surrender in the cause of peace after you've bounced his head off the wall a few times."

"Duo..."

Zechs's voice was suddenly audible from within the room, cold and harsh. "There's nothing more to discuss. This is the best course of-"

"Damnit Milliardo, get your head out of your ass and listen to me!" Relena shrieked. Halfway to the door, Duo nearly fell over.

"Wow," he said softly, eyes wide. "I didn't know 'Lena had it in her."

Quatre looked over at him, just as surprised. "Duo, you have successfully corrupted **Relena Peacecraft**. I'm not sure whether to unleash you on the rest of the system government, or keep you away from her for the rest of your life."

- - - - - -

Fifteen minutes later, Duo had his ear pressed to the door. Quatre had stopped trying to get him to sit down.

"Anything?"

"Nothing," Duo hissed, scowling. "It's way too quiet in there. She's not yelling at him any more."

"Allah be praised."

"Hey, the yelling sounded like it was working."

"Duo, she wasn't yelling, she was screaming. That's never good."

"So she needs some practice at voice modulation under stress," Duo shrugged. "The content was good. I especially liked when she brought up that promise he made back when they were kids, to always protect her."

"**I** would have caved in to her demands at that point," Quatre admitted.

"Yeah, but you're not emo."

"You have emo on the brain today."

"...I hear sniffling. I'm going in. Cover me."

Swinging one crutch up like an improvised club, Duo reached for the doorknob, but Quatre lunged and caught him by the back of his shirt before he could slam the door open. "This is not an assault on a fortified position, damn it, Duo!" he hissed.

"It'll become one if she's crying!" Duo hissed back. "-Fine, fine, we'll just peek, okay?!"

Easing the door open a crack, both teenagers leaned in, peering towards the bed. Quatre reacted first, tugging Duo back and silently closing the door.

"She's crying!" Duo hissed.

"So is he. Your work here is done," Quatre smiled.

"Eh... for now. I'll check back later to see if he needs any remedial ass-beating."

* * * * *

"How do you think it's going?"

Heero looked up from his laptop, mouth quirking slightly into a smile. "Zechs doesn't stand a chance."

"Of course not," Trowa agreed. "I was wondering more about the potential for grievous bodily harm, or property damage."

"Ah. Well. That depends on whether or not he capitulates before Relena cries. If it gets to that point, we may be required to retrieve Duo and Quatre from the police."

"No we won't. Quatre would post bail, assuming his lawyers let it get that far."

"I was picturing more of a dramatic chase across the rooftops, with Duo bounding one-legged across gaps and yelling insults," Heero mused. "You know that's still going to be his automatic reaction if anyone tries to arrest him."

"I gather in this scenario, we're hijacking a helicopter and coming to the rescue in proper dramatic fashion?"

"Do we really need a helicopter?" They were both grinning now. "We have Gundams, that's more than dramatic enough."

"Drop a rope ladder from Wing?"

"Wait, no, Wing can't hover at low altitude. You're right. It would have to be a helicopter."

"Boring. Deathscythe can hover, can't it?"

"As if Duo's going to let us fly **his** baby." Heero rolled his eyes. "Especially since he still hasn't had a chance to fix that knee joint. We'd get fewer complaints if we left him to his fate."

"Heh. True. So!" Trowa stretched, faint popping sounds coming from his back. "I've finished the mass-value-cost calculations on all the commodities Duo and Quatre identified as possible trade goods. I can't say which ones will be worth most over there, but I can say which ones will be easiest to transport. Plus, I have some nice charts showing their relative value in various mediaeval cultures."

"Right. I've got the mass calculations on the various spares we want to take done." Heero flipped through a pile of printouts, frowning. "I've also let Howard know we're likely to be stripping his stock, so he doesn't start getting rid of it under the assumption we don't need it any more."

"What's wrong?"

"Hopefully nothing," the Japanese pilot sighed, slapping the printouts down. "I won't know for sure until the Doctors can give us figures on how much mass they think they can safely blow out of the trouser leg with us, or whatever metaphor they're using for it today."

"Ah." Trowa's one visible eye sharpened. "You think we're packing too much?"

"No; when you're talking about spare parts and ammunition, there is no such thing as too much."

"Agreed!"

Heero grinned again at Trowa's fervent tone of voice, then sobered. "I do think that we're not going to be able to bring **enough**, though. It's not just the spares, it's the tools to work with them and the power systems to operate the tools - field-hardened power systems and tools, that is, which usually at least doubles the mass - and the powered winch systems you need to even **move** some of the spares, and the shielding, and... It would be simplest just to buy Howard's whole ship, really."

Trowa sat up straighter. "It adds up that much? I hadn't realised."

"Neither had I, really, until I started running the numbers," Heero admitted. "The sort of repairs we can do at a safehouse are pretty minimal; we carry the tools and spares for that on-board. That's nothing. The sort of repairs Howard can do are another matter. He has holds full of spares on that ship of his. As for the sort of repairs and modifications the **Doctors** can do, well... that needs a zero-g manufacturing facility. We may have to resign ourselves to the idea that the Gundams might not stay operational for more than, say, a year or two."

"Hm." Trowa frowned, fiddling with his own stack of printouts. "Well. I'd be lying if I said I was happy with the idea of losing Heavyarms... but I'd rather have all five of us together, there. It's not as if we can easily keep the Gundams if we stay here, anyway."

Heero grunted in agreement. "Hn. True. And I'd rather lose Wing in battle or to a component failure than see it blown up to keep a bunch of politicians happy."

"Good thing lack of luggage space wasn't going to make us cancel this trip under any circumstances, then, isn't it?"

* * * * *

_Well. It looks like Wufei and those Champions have the situation fairly well in hand,_ Krashnark thought, finally sitting back from his scrying window. _My little brother is probably having a tantrum, unless he's gotten over his initial snit about Wufei getting away and switched to having a panic attack over what I'm going to do to him. I'll let him stew for a while._

_...So. Why in all of Krahana's hells is __**Orfressa**__ talking to My- to Wufei?! She doesn't take Champions, she doesn't communicate with mortals, she certainly doesn't communicate with my Father's pantheon - I don't think she communicates with other members of Orr's pantheon much, either! Why is m- Wufei important enough to her for her to __**speak**__?!_

"...Orfressa?" he said tentatively, looking around his empty quarters.

/ /query?/ /

Even half expecting the response, Krashnark jumped.

/ /amusement/ /

"Ah. Pardon the intrusion. I, ah, hope I didn't disturb you."

/ /shrug/ /

He paused for a moment, carefully considering his next move. Orfressa was something of an unknown power, technically Light but... he'd never considered the possibility of her involvement in anything, much less his own affairs.

"May I ask what your interest is in My Champion?"

/ /AMUSEMENT!/denial/ /

Krashnark winced. "Sorry. What is your interest in Chang Wufei, my **prospective** Champion?"

/ /connection/kinship/need/love/ /

"...**Why**?!"

The emotions came slower this time, spaced out as if Orfressa was searching for terms he would understand. Each seemed to echo, as if he was perceiving faint shadows of the greater meaning behind the simple concepts that made it through to him.

/ /need/ / (/ /longing/desire/pain/emptiness/ /)

/ /comfort/ / (/ /truth/fulfilment/ /)

/ /kinship/ / (/ /affinity/ /)

/ /love/ / (/ /delight/amusement/joy/pride/ /)

He blinked, shaken. "That felt... almost maternal," he murmured, half to himself.

/ /...affirmation/ /

"Wha- why are you telling me this? Aren't you afraid I'll tell my fa-"

**/ /HATRED!/ /**

"-agh!" Krashnark almost cringed under the weight of it.

/ /apology/hatred!/apology/ /

"What could my father have ever done to **you**?!" he burst out, incredulous.

/ /diminishment/emptiness/pain/loss/ /

"...wait. The pain he caused you..."

/ /pain/ /

"...and the pain you need Wufei for..."

/ /pain/ /

"...they're the **same**?!"

/ /...affirmation.../...negation.../ /

"Yes and no?"

/ /affirmation/sadness/farewell/ /

"Wait, no, I need to ask-" He sighed, somehow realising she had 'gone'. "Damn," he muttered, rubbing at his forehead. "I think now I know what mortals feel like when they talk to us..."

* * * * *

Feeling ancient pain as if it was fresh again, Orfressa reached out for comfort.

- - - - - -

"He's not going to leave," Relena said happily, smiling through her tears. Wordlessly, Quatre handed her yet another tissue.

"Once again, Shinigami kicks butt! Non-physically," Duo said triumphantly, "but still, there was ass-kicking."

"Verbal ass-kicking," Quatre confirmed, rolling his eyes. "Lots and lots of run-on, babbling, guilt-tripping verbal ass-kicking, with a little sexual harassment thrown in."

"And then 'Lena had her turn," Duo went on, pointedly ignoring Quatre. "Man, 'Lena, I've been joking about you being my padawan now, but that 'head outta your ass' comment was a beauty! Perfect delivery, perfect timing, and from what I could hear through the door you just kept going in a full-on frontal assault. Steamrollered him like a pro!"

"You **heard** that?!" Relena blushed, looking horrified. "I- but-"

"Well it's not like you were whispering, babe. You were kinda screaming at the time."

"I do not **scream**!" she shrieked. "I **never** scream! Ladies do not scream!"

"Okay, shrieking. Semantics. Whatever, it worked!"

"Children, children," Trowa murmured. "Can we keep it to a dull roar? Let's not bring the neighbours in to see if we're being murdered in broad daylight."

"I **don't**!" Relena hissed, down to nearly a whisper.

"Not on purpose you don't, maybe," Duo grinned at her.

Quatre sighed. "I know you've semi-adopted Relena as your sister, Duo, but that doesn't mean you have to play bratty little brother teasing his sis quite this well."

"Who's playing? This comes naturally! It's not like I-"

Duo cut off, eyes glazing over, and Quatre gasped.

"Duo?" Heero grasped his shoulder, peering at his face, and shook him slightly. "Duo?!"

"It's her," Quatre whispered, hand pressed to his chest. "Orfressa."

- - - - - -

"-'ve had practice- whoa! Okay, who is it this time?" Duo said, looking around at the misty void. "Orr? C'mon, I'm collecting god-contacts. Three more stamps on my card and I get a free cup of coffee!"

/ /sorrow/ /

"Orfressa? Hey, babe, what's wrong?"

/ /pain/loneliness/ /

"Aw, sweetie, I wish I could hug ya. Who upset you? Drag 'em in here, I'll kick their asses!"

/ /amusement/gratitude/ /

"You just want a chat?"

/ /affirmation/ /

"Cool. I always have time for you. 'Course, you seemed to fix things last time so it didn't take any time on my end, which makes it easier. You got anything in particular you want to talk about, or did you just want me to ramble?"

/ /comfort/amusement/ /

"That sounds like 'ramble' to me. Okay babe, I'm all yours. Wh-"

/ /LOVE!/ /

"-whoa!" Duo staggered. "'Fress, hon, what brought that on? Uh... you love me?"

/ /affirmation/pride/joy/approval/love!/ /

"...Wow. Um. I wish I knew what I did that made you feel that way hon, I'd do it more."

/ /possessiveness/ /

"...the 'I'm all yours' bit? Oh. Heh. Quick check, are we talking 'I love him and want him to be happy' possessiveness, or are we getting into 'love him and squeeze him and subjugate him to my every whim and call him George' territory?" Duo said, a little nervously.

/ /amusement/love/happiness/ /

"Right. Good. Option one."

/ /affirmation/ /

"Phew. You didn't seem like the call-him-George type, hon, but Heero and Quatre are twitchy, and given that Wufei's developed a stalker over there I wanted to make sure."

/ /amusement!/ /

"You've been watching that?"

/ /affirmation/amusement/ /

"So Wufei's all right? Everything's okay with him?"

/ /affirmation/reassurance/ /

"Aw man, that's a relief. I'm glad you're keeping an eye on him, thanks for that. So... this Krashnark guy. Is he gonna be a problem? 'Cause if he is, I'm gonna have to get Heero to kick the Doctors into gear and get us over there faster."

/ /...delight!/query?/ /

"Oh, yeah, we hadn't decided last time you visited. We think we can get over there, part way at least. We're working on it. Actually, can you help out a bit, or would it be out of your territory?"

/ /query?/ /

"You know about how Krashy pulled me and Wufei into the same dream, so we could talk?"

/ /amusement/affirmation/ /

"Can you do that too?"

/ /affirmation!/ /

"**Awesome**!" Duo grinned. "See, we figured that if we can get to where Wufei was pulled- summoned- out of, then maybe he can duplicate what brought him the rest of the way for us. Only he can't do that unless we can get the message to him that he **should**. Do you think it'll work?"

/ /...affirmation.../ /

"Uh-oh. You're feeling tentative again. I've got that kind of right?"

/ /affirmation/ /

"So... he can't do **exactly** the same thing, but he can do something that will work?"

/ /affirmation!/ /

"Cool. Is he going to be able to find out what will work?"

/ /affirmation/ /

"'Fress, hon, you are fantastic. I hope people tell you that all the time, 'cause you are, babe."

/ /delight/ /

"Hey, sorry to sidetrack this into our problems, hon. You feeling a bit better?" Duo settled into a relaxed midair slouch, smiling upwards.

/ /affirmation/gratitude/ /

"Like I said, anytime. Well, maybe not when I'm driving. Or piloting. Or going down stairs. That could end painfully. Um." Duo's eyebrows quirked as he considered that. "Can you tell what I'm doing before you yoink me in here? And, you know, **not** yoink if I'm in the wrong situation?"

/ /affirmation/reassurance/ /

"Phew, again. So- hey. That... hm. There's a possibility. Given that you can tell what I'm doing when you're not actually talking to me, can **I** call **you**? I mean, will you hear me if I'm sitting somewhere going 'Duo to Orfressa, come in Orfressa'?"

/ /...consideration.../affirmation/ /

"Really?!"

/ /affirmation/ /

"This is so **cool**!" Duo sprang up, practically dancing in nothingness. "'Fress, hon, this is **perfect**! We can tell Wufei what to expect and actually coordinate with him, that was all we were missing! Seriously, babe, I could kiss you, and I don't even like girls that way!"

/ /welcome/delight/ /

"Okay, okay," Duo muttered, thinking furiously. "Man, this is awesome... okay, Krashy said it was taking a lot of energy for him to do the dream thing, so we need to keep it short and not do it until we've got actual details to tell Wufei. That'll take a while." _No hurry, then,_ he continued privately to himself. _So, no, I will not run out on talking with 'Fress just because I want to do something about this now now __**now**__!_

"So!" he continued, stretching his arms out and looking around. "Back to rambling, as requested. I kicked ass today, hon, wanna hear about it?"

- - - - - -

"This is taking longer than the last time," Heero muttered, watching Duo's blank face.

"It feels like a very active conversation," Quatre told him, still rubbing his chest. "Duo feels excited and happy, mostly, so I don't think we need to worry-"

"-whuuurr. Um. Where was I?" Duo said, abruptly blinking back to awareness.

"Away with the fairies?" Trowa suggested.

"Ah. Heh." Duo looked around the table at everyone staring back at him. "I gather she didn't make it instantaneous on this end this time?"

"Eighteen seconds," Heero told him, hands slowly unclenching from fists. "Welcome back."

"Ha, thanks." Duo grinned at him; the grin faded a little as he took in Heero's tense, closed expression, and he reached out under the table, capturing one of Heero's hands and rubbing his thumb comfortingly over the knuckles. "Sorry if I worried you guys, but I do have good news."

"...Could I have an explanation before we get to the news?" Relena asked plaintively, eyes wide. "Because I have **no** idea what just happened, but obviously you all do. Is this something to do with, um, Wufei and the alternate dimension you were talking about when Duo was in hospital?"

Explanations didn't take long, but acceptance was another matter; when the pilots had finished talking, Relena just sat and stared at them. Eyeing her expression, Duo snickered and nudged Heero. "You see why I didn't want to tell you guys everything the first time? You would've looked at me like that."

"I think I **did** look at you like that," Heero muttered. "You just didn't notice because it was dark."

"Duo, that's... this is..." Relena fumbled for words. "A **goddess**? That's just... but Quatre agrees... I don't..." She waved her hands helplessly. "I'm not saying you'd **lie** to me, and I can't think of any reason why you'd all cooperate in a joke like this, but- why are you all so **calm**? Honestly! Even if you immediately accept that this is real, and I still don't see why you would, how are you not, not, I don't know, having hysterics on the floor?!"

Duo shrugged. "Because I don't do hysterics? Heero definitely doesn't do hysterics."

"You are still being perfectly matter-of-fact about talking to a **goddess**! Even if you don't 'do' hysterics, you have **something** you do when you're having trouble accepting a situation! Don't you find it just a little bit **odd**?!"

"I kind of got over that part during the talk with Wufei, I think." Duo shrugged again. "I dunno, it's just... when I got to talk to Wufei first of all I wanted it to be real, and then he had a logical argument for why it had to be real. Talking with 'Fress- Orfressa- though, it's like... I dunno! She just feels right or something. I trust her."

Quatre nodded. "I trust my empathy; if I didn't, I'd be the one in hysterics whenever I got 'feelings' from someone. And Duo's right, Orfressa feels very... emotionally solid, I guess. Trustworthy. There's nothing false or deceptive in what I get when Duo's talking to her."

Trowa smiled. "I trust Quatre."

"I trust Duo," Heero agreed. "I was a bit dubious the first time he talked to me about this, but the closest I came to **not** trusting him was thinking maybe he'd had a convincing dream and wanted to believe it. Now? If he told me the sky had turned pink, I'd at least check."

Duo snickered, grinning. "If the sky turned pink, I'd ask you how you did it, Pretty," he told Relena. "Do you get where we're coming from now?"

"No," she said frankly, "but given that I'm not the one having little impromptu coffee breaks with a goddess, I don't think I have to. I do understand that the four of you are serious about this, even if I still think you're all crazy to accept it this easily even if it **is** all true!"

"We're not just accepting it, hon," Duo told her gently. "We're going to act on it. I wasn't going to tell you until we were sure one way or another, but- well, like I said, I have news. It looks like we can go there."

"...Go?" Relena repeated dumbly. "To another universe?"

"Yeah. We ought to be able to do some good over there, and, well... we don't exactly fit in here any more, do we? Not with Gundams and terrorist skills and all. The war's over. We aren't needed here any more."

"But **I** need you!" she wailed, and burst into tears.

* * * * *

"Mathel? Do they fit?"

"Well enough for now," the hradani girl said, opening the door to the little chamber that seemed to have become hers. "I can alter them."

"Oh. Good," Akar said, stepping back.

Mathel folded her hands in front of her and looked up at him. _He's so careful not to crowd me,_ she thought, and hid a smile. All the hradani who'd witnessed her near-sacrifice were wincingly careful around her, trying not to scare or even touch her. Now that she'd had time to take in her new status as 'the girl rescued by a god', it was rather amusing.

"How's, er, how are you healing?"

"Fine," she told him, raising her eyebrows. _Just like I was this morning, the last time you asked._ "Was there something else you wanted?" She was still bandaged underneath the loose dress Akar had brought her, somebody's daughter's cast-off, but the shallow cuts had closed and were itching as they healed.

The brand-new priest of Krashnark fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing upwards as if seeking inspiration. "You, ah... do you want to go home? You can, you know, we've no wish to keep you prisoner or-"

"No!" Mathel snapped, ears pinned back, then took a deep breath and forced them to lift a little. "No," she repeated, "I've no wish to go home. No home to go to, truth be told."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"What for? It's no fault of yours," she said wryly. He was looking rather like a boy about to cry, she decided, and relented. "My parents are dead," she told him, making a throwaway gesture with one hand. "About a year ago now. Churnazh and Harnak had borrowed money from my father, but of course that all got forgotten when he died, and without it I couldn't keep our house... even if I'd been allowed to. They 'kindly'," her voice soured, "allowed me to work in the palace."

"...Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh'. I've been dodging three of Black Churnazh's sons all year, them and their friends, and I wouldn't have managed it if I'd been prettier. So, no, I don't have anywhere to go back to even if I wanted to, which I don't. For one thing, I've been missing for four days, and that alone would get me whipped or thrown out. For another," she swallowed, "it was two of Prince Chalak's guardsmen who kidnapped me and sold me to that priest. Whether he knows about it or not, they wouldn't be happy to see me back and able to talk."

Akar scratched one ear, abruptly scowling. "Huh. I'm tempted to say Chalak Rottenbrain can't know, because if he did he'd never be able to keep the secret, but you're right; it doesn't really matter one way or another. Well enough. You're welcome to stay here, then, if you'd like, and not as a servant either. If you're willing, Himself said as how he might have a job for you, and if not, well, we'll find you a good place. Get you out of Navahk and out to one of the other Bloody Sword cities if you'd rather."

"Thank you," Mathel said, swallowing again as relief made her knees feel weak. "I'd... I'd like to stay here. I do have a few friends, and I owe a debt; if Krashnark has something for me to do, I'll at least hear him out."

=*Thank you,*= a deep, rich voice said out of thin air. Mathel and Akar both jerked, eyes wide and ears going flat. =*Sorry. I'd warn you before speaking,*= Krashnark went on dryly, =*but I think whatever I did to warn you would be just as much of a surprise.*=

"Probably," Akar agreed, taking a deep breath and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Hopefully I'll get used to it eventually. Hello again, Lord."

Krashnark chuckled. =*Judging by how blasé certain other people have become about my appearances, I'd say you will. Mathel, thank you for staying. I need a messenger, if you're willing...*=

- - - - - -

_"We'll start with Yurgazh,"_ Akar had said. _"He's as close as you'll get to a trustworthy man in the Guard, and from what I hear he's no lover of Black Churnazh."_

Hurrying through Navahk's darkened streets in the middle of the night, Mathel found that those words weren't as reassuring in her memory as they'd sounded at the time. _'If he doesn't like Churnazh, why is he a Captain?'_ a little voice at the back of her head asked.

_Because he's the closest thing Navahk has to a war hero,_ Mathel answered, tugging the hood of her cloak down further as she passed one of the few lit torches. _Churnazh had to either promote him or lose half the mercenaries that joined his army._

_'He's stayed a Captain,'_ the voice pointed out. _'Sounds like he's happy here.'_

_Or he's got nowhere else to go. I stayed in the damn palace kitchens for a year, didn't I? I'd still be there if I hadn't been kidnapped, and it wasn't for love of the job._ Mathel snorted quietly to herself at the thought, and the doubting voice fell silent as she reached her goal.

Captain Yurgazh turned out to be slightly shorter than normal for a Bloody Sword hradani, only a few inches over six feet tall and not heavily built either. His eyes were intelligent, though, and his gear well-kept, something that wasn't normal for the City Guard. One eyebrow quirked when a cloaked, soft-spoken woman asked to see him alone, but he bowed politely - with **real** courtesy, not the mocking pretence some of Churnazh's followers used - and waved her into his tiny office in the gatehouse, closing the door firmly between them and his bored subordinates.

"If you want genuine privacy, lady, I suggest you whisper," he said wryly, pushing a stool forward for her and leaning against the corner of his rickety desk. "There are enough chinks in the walls for a howling blizzard to waft straight in here in winter."

"That shouldn't be necessary, Captain," Mathel said, one hand coming up to close over a small, angular object under her dress as she dropped her hood. She didn't think _Please let this work!_ was exactly what Krashnark had meant when he told her the pendant only needed 'directed prayer' to do its job, but the sudden disappearance of the little noises from the next room told her it had served well enough.

Yurgazh noticed the silence, too, and straightened up, eyes narrowing. One hand slid to his swordhilt, but he didn't draw... yet.

"I've come to see you because I hear you're an honourable man, Captain," she told him, sitting down and hoping she looked calmer than she felt. He might in fact **be** an honourable man and all that, but that might just mean he would kill her quickly if he decided she was dangerous.

"I like to think so," he said slowly.

"Also a smart one," she went on. "Which means you can see what Prince Churnazh and his sons are doing to this city."

His eyes narrowed again. "You called me 'honourable' first," he pointed out. "I swore allegiance to Churnazh, and I'm not about to talk treason just because a mysterious girl flatters me."

"Even if he and his sons are meddling with Sharna?"

Yurgazh's hand tightened on his hilt. "That's a very serious accusation," he said grimly. "I hope, for your sake, that you have some sort of proof if you want to pursue this."

"Not at hand, but it can be provided." Mathel lifted her chin, meeting his eyes defiantly. "Black Churnazh and his sons are headed straight for Krahana's deepest hells, and they'll take half the city or more with them if they aren't stopped."

"And that's where you come in," he said sarcastically. "Let me guess; one of the old families has had enough, and their lord is drumming up support for when he tries to take the throne?"

She shook her head, reaching into the neckline of her dress. "Not a lord, no. Gods are moving, and we hradani aren't going to be let alone the way we have for the last thousand years and more. So if we've got to pick a side-" Her hand pulled out a thin chain, and a pendant dropped to dangle, sparkling in the lamplight. "-let's make it one that understands us, and honour."

Ebony and gold shone, a stylised flame surrounding the black steward's rod; Krashnark's symbol.


	38. Chapter 37

_I feel like a mob of small children are about to mug me,_ Wufei thought wryly.

The crews of three halfling warships - four ships, counting the crew of the _Osprey_ - certainly made a crowd large enough to count as a mob, though they were much quieter and better-disciplined. Gathered on the beach, carrying an assortment of weapons and lanterns, they were muttering among themselves, looking back and forth between him and Nataku looming above them in the darkness. Uthmar and Arwen had explained his place in their group and the background leading up to it, and now they were waiting for... what? A decision? For the assembled crews to come to a consensus on whether or not Wufei and Nataku had to die anyway?

And they were all about three feet tall.

_You didn't think of Uthmar and I and the rest of us dwarves as children,_ Karthan snickered in his head. _Or did you?_

_You're all about __**four**__ feet tall, bearded, and built like brick walls,_ Wufei snorted. _They're a lot thinner than you. I'm sure they're stronger than they look, the weapons they're carrying are proof enough of that, but the point is that they look like five-year-old human children with horns. Admittedly, some of them look like five-year-old human children wearing impressive false moustaches..._

There was a sputter of laughter, but when Karthan 'spoke' again his mental voice was more serious. _Keep your mind on the weapons and moustaches, not their height, if you can,_ he advised. _Halflings as a race have a reputation for cowardice, but that doesn't apply to Marfangers. They may be small, but that just means that more of them can attack one target at once, they're harder to hit, they're nearly as strong as humans and they're __**fast**__._

_Back in my own world, I spent a lot of time over the last couple of years taking advantage of people underestimating me based on my age and size,_ Wufei told him dryly. _I'll keep it in mind._

"I have a question," growled the halfling who seemed to be commanding the three warships. He had a surprisingly deep voice to be coming from such a narrow chest, a restrained moustache, and what looked like a couple of metal bands fastened to his horns - decoration or reinforcement, Wufei couldn't tell. "Two questions," he corrected himself.

"Yes, Commander?" Uthmar said politely.

"Not for you," he snapped, jerking his chin towards Wufei. "I'm asking the demon." His mail leggings jingled as he stamped towards where Wufei was leaning against Nataku's foot, coming to a halt with fists on his hips and his chest thrown out, breastplate gleaming in the lantern light. "Why'd you save my crewman?"

Wufei blinked, eyebrow lifting. "Because he needed it."

A faint noise, a muffled laugh perhaps, came from where Vaijon and the rest of the Order of Torframos's men were standing. "He does that," somebody muttered.

"Huh." Commander Morash's chin jutted out aggressively. "Fair enough. What do you plan to do now?"

"Well." Wufei considered for a moment. "Sharna seems to be devoting a lot of his attention to trying to kill me, so I think annoying him is a good basic goal. I haven't worked out the details yet, but killing his priests has been working so far."

Morash barked a laugh, and the predatory grins gleaming from half the assembled halflings suddenly made it much easier to remember they were adults. "Ah, now there's a goal I can be agreeing with," the commander said, eyeing Wufei with new respect. "So you're not feeling any sort of obligation to Demon Breath for bringing you here?"

Wufei snorted. "Why would I? I had a perfectly good home in my own world, friends closer than family and a cause to fight for. It's nice enough here, I suppose, but it's not where I want to be. If I owe Sharna anything, it's a kick in the teeth!"

"Right then," Morash grunted, nodding briskly. "Damned if I'm going to stand in your way. Anyone think different?" he called, looking back over his shoulder at the assembled crews. Several of them shrugged or nodded, muttering to each other again, but the commander's eyes were on the blue-robed mage; Adric had his arms folded and a half-smile on his face, clearly not objecting. Turning back to Wufei, Morash grinned and stuck out his hand. "Pleased to have you on our side, Sir Demon. Better than what I was expecting to happen tonight!"

* * * * *

"**Krashnark**?!" Yurgazh said incredulously. "Girl, he's had less to do with mortals in the last few hundred years than- than **Silendros** has," he sputtered, naming the Goddess of Stars.

"That's a fair enough thing to say," Mathel shrugged, "but that's also the past, and it's not the way things are going to be from now on. I've **seen** him, Captain." She leaned forward, meeting his eyes with an intense stare. "Seen him and spoken to him, closer than you are to me now. I owe him my life, and if he says it's time for hradani to stop ignoring the gods then I believe him... and if you're minded to cut me down for worshipping a Dark god, now's your chance."

Yurgazh's jaw set. "He's Dark all right. How's worshipping him any better than following one of the others?"

"That's fair, too," she allowed, smiling slightly. "All I can say to that is, look at what they do. You know what the rest of the Dark gods do, what they're like. Would Sharna appear in one of his temples and say 'No, sacrifices aren't what I want, stop that'?"

The captain's ears flattened as he looked at her incredulously, and her smile broadened into a near-grin.

"Krashnark did," she said softly. "Sharna wants us to lick his boots and like it; Krashnark wants us to be ourselves. I think... if we choose to follow him, he can get us to a place where we can be **proud** of what we are. Rightfully proud! Not the sort of pride Black Churnazh has, that he hugs to himself at night thinking of how he's got his foot on our necks," she spat. "And if it really is time for us to choose a god to follow, who else can we follow **but** Krashnark? The other Dark gods have done too much to us over the centuries; and for all they talk about loving mortals, none of the Light gods have lifted a finger for us in over a thousand years."

Yurgazh settled back against his desk, hand loosening slightly on his swordhilt. "Why now?" he asked quietly. "He's the god of War, and there's been war enough without him ever bothering to show up. Is he waking up now because it's about to get worse?"

"I don't know," Mathel told him frankly. "He hasn't said, and truth be told, I - we - haven't asked yet. But really, Captain... we're hradani, and Bloody Sword hradani at that. Half the world fears us, the other half hates us, the Horse Stealers just stepped all over us in a war that Churnazh looks to be starting up again, he's beginning to lose the support of the other Bloody Sword cities, and the Sothoii are just waiting for us to look weak. Did you think it was going to get **better**?"

"Ha!" Yurgazh grinned despite himself. "You never know. Miracles do happen."

"Ah, but Captain... you need a god for that," Mathel grinned back.

* * * * *

"Aw, 'Lena, babe, **please** don't cry," Duo said, helplessly patting her shoulder. "We're not going to just up and vanish on you tomorrow! Um... guys? Little help here?"

To everyone else's surprise, it was Heero who reached out and started awkwardly rubbing Relena's back. "Relena- 'Lena," he said quietly, using Duo's affectionate term for her. "We can't stay. It took us a while to work it out ourselves, but we really can't."

"Why **not**?" she asked, voice cracking. "Milliardo thought he couldn't- shouldn't- stay, but he, he changed his mind, why can't you?"

"Because we're not as much like him as you might think," he told her gently. "Zechs only piloted Tallgeese because it was the best way he could serve his cause. He can give it up, forget those skills, and be happy in a different life. We... can't."

"You don't **know** that," she said angrily, twisting away from the soggy patch she'd created on Duo's shirt. "You haven't tried!"

"It doesn't matter whether we can or not, really," he shrugged. "Say we could be happy as ordinary people. Say we stayed here and tried to build a normal life for ourselves. You know the people in the interim Government, 'Lena; you know how the people who are going to be running the world think. Would we be **allowed**?"

"...I don't understand," she whispered, staring at him wide-eyed. "You- but- why wouldn't you be allowed to be normal?"

"You think of us as people because you know us, Relena," Quatre sighed. "A lot of people are going to think of us as weapons. Well, we **are** weapons; and most politicians will either want to use us, or make sure nobody else can."

"Gundam pilots arms race," Duo snickered. "Sorry, hon. We've hashed out this same conversation about three times since yesterday, so we've had time to get used to the idea. You can protect your brother, but even you don't have enough political oomph backing you up to protect all of us. Besides, we want Wufei back, and apparently that trip only works one-way."

"Oh. Yes. I... almost forgot. Wufei needs you... more than I do. I shouldn't be selfish." She laughed, a little bitterly, wiping her face. "I'm Relena Peacecraft. I don't get to be selfish any more."

Duo snorted, rolling his eyes. "Hell yes you do! 'Lena, we just bullied your brother into staying put so you wouldn't lose him again, what do you call that?" He held up a finger to stop her as she turned to him, horrified. "Yes, I know, that's not why we did it, and it's as much for his good as it is for you, but think about it. If you look at it one way, we did it for perfectly innocent and benevolent motives. If you look at it another way, we totally ignored his desires and used emotional blackmail to get what we wanted. Half of life's decisions are like that, so yeah, we're being damn selfish by skipping off into another dimension to have fun with our friend Wufei and avoid having to get rid of our toys. At the same time, we're sacrificing our lives and friendships here and selflessly flinging ourselves into the void, removing ourselves as a source of conflict. The truth is somewhere in the middle."

Relena blinked. "Duo... I'm a bit confused here. Are you telling me to stop whining, or that it's okay to be more selfish?"

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, grinning at her. "Though I'd probably tell you not to be emo instead, I've had good luck with that word today. 'Lena, I'm sorry. I really am. I know it seems like we're abandoning you, but we'd have to leave one way or another; it's kinda hard to hide from law enforcement and sleazy politicos while you're dropping in for your weekly lunch with the Vice-Foreign Minister."

"You did just fine during the war even with me turning up on your doorstep all the time," she pointed out caustically.

"That's exactly my point, babe. You kept finding us, and we had to keep abandoning safehouses before OZ followed you. They were kinda incompetent, really," Duo mused, "but if half the world government ended up looking for us - and they **would** - we'd have to get serious about hiding, and that means no contact with anyone known to associate with us. Which means you." He shrugged.

Relena accepted yet another tissue from Quatre and blew her nose, sniffing. "Are you sure you were running away from OZ, and not me in my persona as Heero's creepy stalker?"

"OZ. Honest. Though it was kind of a package deal," he grinned.

- - - - -

After Relena finally left, Duo collapsed onto the sofa, letting his crutches rattle to the floor. "Argh," he groaned, letting his head fall back and rubbing his eyes. "It's not even lunchtime and I'm exhausted. No wonder Zechs gave in when 'Lena was crying at him! She's got a freaking weapon of mass terror there!"

"That must be it," Heero nodded, picking up the crutches and leaning them against the wall within Duo's reach. "It couldn't possibly have anything to do with you getting hardly any sleep last night."

"I'm a damn Gundam pilot and walking weapon, Heero, or did you miss the whole conversation reminding Relena of that little fact? It takes more than a few hours of missed sleep to get me down. Princesses crying at me definitely counts as more. -Unless I'm getting old in my teens. God. I'm using crutches, that's halfway to a cane isn't it? I should stand out on the front porch shaking them at kids and yelling for them to get off the lawn."

"We don't get kids on our lawn," Heero pointed out. "They're all over on the other side of the street, looking at the gossip ladies' cats."

"Well that spoils my fun. Go bribe them with cookies or something to get them over here so I can shake my crutches."

"I don't think that would fit with our cover story, Duo... unless you really want people to think you're high, and reinforce the rumour about you being kneecapped in a drug deal gone wrong, in which case I'll probably get arrested on suspicion of luring juveniles with adulterated baked goods."

Duo's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Holy shit, don't tell me that one actually got started!"

Heero smirked. "I **told** you what would happen if you chopped the leg off those jeans. It's not a very popular rumour, but it's out there. The gossip ladies assure me they'll squash it."

"Since when did you start talking to Miss Immy and Miss Neppy?" Duo laughed, grinning.

"Since I was working on the car out in the driveway three days ago, to keep up my side of the cover story, and they came over for a 'little chat'."

"Oh man, I feel for you! I know what they mean by a 'little chat' - I have fun, but you aren't exactly the happy chatty type. Three hours?"

"I got away with two," Heero grimaced, "but it was at the expense of a promise to keep them up to date on how the engine runs. Which one's which, by the way? They never got to formal introductions."

"They don't," Duo snickered. "They just start in like they've known you all your life. Miss Immy, real name Imogen Sands, is the taller one; Miss Neppy is the shorter one with darker hair, real name Niobe Hawthorne. Three cats each, Miss Neppy is considering getting a puppy, both widows in their early seventies, best friends since they were about five years old, moved in together roughly twenty years ago when their husbands died."

"Were they talked to death?"

Duo snorted. "How dare you malign two sweet and only slightly garrulous elderly women? Cop shot in the line of duty, and plain old age - Miss Immy apparently has a thing for older men."

"I'll believe that when I see the death certificates." Heero grimaced again. "I have to admit, though, you were right when you said they could be part of our security system. Nothing gets past those two, and since they started talking to me they've kept me up to date on practically every vehicle that's come down this street. I gather they're telling me about cars because they believe I'm interested in them."

"Yup! And they tell me about everyone's medical problems and accidents," Duo nodded. "Nothing anybody would want to keep secret - they're really good about not passing on anything embarrassing or malicious - but I know who fell off a ladder winterproofing their house, that sort of thing."

"I get all the pet-related news," Trowa said mildly, leaning on the doorframe with a drink in his hand. "Last I heard, Quatre was getting clothes and caffeine talk; Miss Neppy is just as much of a coffee fiend as he is."

"How do they find the time to talk to everyone if they're spending two or three hours with each one?" Heero asked incredulously.

"They don't," Trowa shrugged. "It's just that everyone else is up to date; with us, they're trying to get through several years worth of gossip in one go."

* * * * *

"Well," Holderman said dryly, rubbing tired eyes. "That's a new record, even for us."

Evark grunted assent, leaning on the rail and squinting towards the rising sun as the _Wind Dancer_ slid smoothly through the calm waters of the Bay of Kolvania. "We needed to make good time while we had blue water to sail in," he pointed out, voice harsh with fatigue. "Even I'm not about to sail at night once we get inland. We're going to need to take pilots aboard... hells, we're going to need **maps**. Gods only know if any landsman's drawn maps we can trust, though."

Holderman laughed. "Aye, well, they do tend to concentrate on unimportant things like roads and towns, Captain."

"Uff. You know more about the inland geography than I do," Evark said, stretching with both hands in the small of his back. "Know anything about the Bellwater river?"

"A little," his first mate admitted. "We shouldn't need to worry about shoals or picking a route until well after we hit Riverside, about thirty leagues in; there's nowt but the main channel, and it's good and deep. So long as we set a watch to keep an eye out upstream for snags and floating trees, we should be fine. After Riverside, though, there's about fifteen leagues clear sailing on the Morvan River - same channel, just a different name - and then we'll reach the Lower Saram. That splits into four or five separate branches, and I've no idea which is the best one to take. If I remember rightly, three of them come together again below Derm, but at least one of those has a reputation for bad shoaling."

"So we'll need to pick up a pilot, or a good map. Better a pilot," Evark mused, "they'll know the landmarks where we'd have to puzzle them out. At Riverside?"

Holderman shook his head, yawning hugely. "Saramfal. The city lies in the first fork we'll reach in the Lower Saram, a pilot based there will have better local knowledge."

"Sounds like a good idea. We've got a course to sail and daylight to sail in; get to your bunk and get some sleep, man. I'll need you awake to take over the noon watch. Given a bit of luck and fair winds, we ought to make Riverside just after dusk if you've remembered the distances right."

* * * * *

"I'm glad to be off again," Karthan muttered, half to himself and half to Wufei, sending the thought down the link. "That wasn't a good spot to be spending the night."

_Oh?_ Wufei's reply was tinged with sleepiness; he'd slept in Nataku's pilot chair again, Gundam resting on the sea floor, and was taking longer than usual to wake up. _What was wrong with it?_

_That,_ the dwarf thought grimly, looking towards a treeless ridge on shore. Above the beach where they'd talked to Commander Morash and his crews, silhouetted against the dawn sky, a ragged group of figures were watching the _Osprey_ set sail. _This is about the northern edge of Wild Wash territory. We weren't far off shore, and they have boats; Captain Grantik made sure the anchor watch were armed and wary, and the Order set sentries as well, but it wouldn't have been pleasant if they'd decided to come for a visit._

_Hradani, yes? Uthmar said something about them, night before last..._ The thought paused, fading out, then resumed. _Karthan? What is it about hradani? I've only met Cord and Naiya, and they seem to get along well with everyone, but whenever someone mentions __**other**__ hradani people seem... wary._

_Um._ Karthan rubbed his nose, frowning. _Wary is a good word for it, yes. Cord and Naiya aren't typical, Wufei; that's not to say that all hradani are murderous brigands, but plenty of them are. Even the ones that are mostly law-abiding when they're sane are dangerous._

_When they're __**sane**__?! What do you mean by that?_

Grimacing, Karthan glanced towards the prow of the ship where Cord and Naiya were standing along with several of the Order of Torframos, staying out of the sailors' way. _Hradani are berserkers. __**All**__ of them- well, all of the men. They run mad, and not just in battle; from what I've heard, and seen myself as well, it doesn't take much to set some of them off, and they're almost impossible to stop._

_I spent about ten days in that village, Karthan,_ Wufei sent stubbornly. _Nobody there was expecting Cord to go berserk._

_So he's a calm one,_ Karthan replied. _He still went crazy during the fight against Sharna's temple guardsmen, while you and I were stuck underground. He and Naiya are good people, Wufei, I'm not disputing that. The fact remains that a lot of hradani __**aren't**__, Wild Wash definitely included, and even if every one of them took up charitable works and joined a priesthood people would __**still**__ be wary of them because of what happened during the Fall of Kontovar!_

_The what?_

"Gods," Karthan muttered aloud, leaning his elbows on the rail and rubbing his temples. "Now that he can speak fluently, I keep forgetting how much he **doesn't** know..." _Kontovar is the landmass to our south. Twelve hundred years ago, the followers of the Dark Gods destroyed the Ottovaran Empire and drove the survivors north to Norfressa before they were wiped out by the last white wizards calling fire from the sky. The hradani were their shock troops, the first fist of the Dark armies. People have long memories for something like that._

_..._

_That's the short version. The long version involves us getting to the Motherhouse and spending a few days in the library there._

_...Twelve hundred years, and people are still holding their ancestors' sins against an entire __**race**__? Even if every single hradani living back then chose the side of the Dark Gods, which I sincerely doubt, their descendents didn't-_

_It was all of them,_ Karthan interrupted. _Every one. The way I heard it, they were compelled or manipulated or something- I don't know the details, which is why the long version requires the Motherhouse library, but-_

_**Compelled?!**_

_Ah- yes._ The dwarf blinked, taken aback by the force Wufei put behind that single word. _It's why hradani hate wizards; Carnadosa's dark wizards did something-_

_So we're talking about ancient history that __**wasn't even their fault**__ in the first place, and the other races still blame the hradani instead of the ones who did it to them?! Dear __**gods**__ but this world is fucked up!_ Wufei raged, and Karthan flinched as the link between them slammed shut.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing at his forehead. "Put that way, I can see his point..."

- - - - - -

Seething, Wufei glared at the screen showing him a camera view of _Osprey_'s hull from below, dyed green by the depth of water above him. _Twelve hundred years! Twelve hundred years and how many generations? How many changes in the story as it's been passed down? How many people with a vested interest in it being 'us' versus 'them' and having 'them' be the villains? I'd bet the version the hradani tell would focus more on the, ha, details that the dwarves seem to have half forgotten. Who knows if it would be any more accurate, though-_

Something about that last sentence seemed to echo significantly.

_Who knows. Who __**does**__ know what really happened?_

_Nobody alive today is going to know the pure, unadulterated truth, even if..._

_...No. Not 'nobody'. No __**mortal**__ alive today knows the full story._

- - - - - -

_Krashnark!_

Startled, Krashnark pulled his attention away from yet another temple, turning his thoughts towards his prospective Champion. _He sounds angry-_ _=*What's wrong?*=_

_I need a history lesson, if you have a moment._

_=*Always. Which history? Or should I ask whose?*=_

_I want to know about the Fall of Kontovar. Specifically, the role the hradani played._

Krashnark's mouth curled into a wry smile. _...Ah. Yes, I should have anticipated something like this._

It didn't take him long to decide how to handle the conversation.

- - - - - -

_=*The hradani were victims, even more than the people they killed. Given the choice, virtually all of them would have fought against My Father's forces. They were not given that choice.*=_

Wufei blinked, startled by the blunt admission. "You don't deny it?"

_=*What would be the point of lying to you? You'd find out soon enough, and I owe you truth at the very least.*=_

"What happened?"

Somehow, Wufei could feel Krashnark settling down for a long explanation. _=*Before the Fall of Kontovar, the hradani were one of the most respected Races of Man. They were known for their calm natures and good sense. They were also,*=_ his voice turned dry, _=*large, strong, and swift to heal.*=_

"Perfect soldiers, in other words," Wufei said, just as dryly.

_=*Exactly... apart from the niggling little matter of free will,*=_ Krashnark agreed. _=*The wizards - my sister Carnadosa's followers - were magically powerful, but at a disadvantage on a battlefield. Major spellcasting takes time, and can be disrupted if your enemy reaches you. White wizards, Semkirk's followers at the time, coordinated well with the other Light gods' forces and were able to shelter behind, say, a shield wall formed by Torframos's dwarves or Lillinara's warriors. We Dark gods and our followers... don't do that. The Carnadosans had to provide their own shielding force. They found one.*=_

"An entire **people**?!"

_=*It was the nature of the spell they cast,*=_ the god told him, sounding mildly regretful. _=*Instead of affecting just those hradani within their reach, they aimed to... twist... the nature of the race. My sister helped. The hradani became larger, stronger, faster to heal, resistant to magic... and berserkers, under the control of the wizards. They were an extremely effective weapon.*=_

Wufei choked. "You almost sound like you approve!"

Krashnark's tone darkened. _=*I don't. I am the God of War, and My worshippers fight and die by their own choices, for their own causes. Their actions in battle are their prayers to Me, and I do not presume to control them. The magical compulsion of an entire race, forcing them to fight and die by another's will, was an abomination. __**However**__. I am also My Father's Steward and General, and my duties in that role have nothing whatsoever to do with whether or not I 'approve' of My siblings and their actions.*=_

He paused, then went on when Wufei didn't reply. _=*The wizards controlling the hradani died when Wencit of Rum and the last members of the Council of Ottovar blasted the continent behind the refugees as they fled, and the surviving hradani escaped north as well. The refugees from the other races turned on them, and hunted them nearly to extinction. They've survived - barely - by making strength and self-sufficiency their religion, in place of the gods they reject. Their males are still berserkers; they call it the Rage.*=_

"Didn't anyone understand that it hadn't been their fault?"

_=*Some did. Most didn't care.*=_ Wufei felt Krashnark shrug. _=*They were a far easier target than the wizards who were truly to blame, after all. Can you look at two humans, dressed alike, and point out which is the wizard? No. But you can easily look at two mortals and pick out the hradani. They couldn't __**hide**__, Wufei, but the wizards could- and the other humans knew it. It was far safer to target hradani than it was to try to hunt wizards when one of them might be standing right behind you.*=_

"True," Wufei sighed, anger draining away. "I suppose it's human- mortal, whatever- nature. It was certainly easier for OZ to convince most of Earth's population that it was 'us versus them', Earth versus the colonies, than it was for them to admit that the real problem was some of their own people..."

_=*You understand, then.*=_

"That doesn't mean I have to **like** it."

_=*Exactly.*=_

"So... what about their current reputation? **Are** most hradani 'murderous brigands'?" Wufei asked sourly.

_=*No. A significant percentage of them are brigands, whether murderous or not, but most? Hardly. Of course,*=_ Krashnark added, sounding darkly amused, _=*the humans and dwarves who spread that reputation almost never admit to all the raids that go the other way, into hradani lands. It's to the point where everything is in revenge for something else, though the hradani were attacked first- not that many others remember that.*=_

The conversation paused again, and a quiet, brooding silence filled Nataku's cockpit... eventually broken by a snicker.

_=*What?*=_

"Nothing."

The mental equivalent of a disbelieving expression flicked into Wufei's mind, and he smirked. "All right, it was something. You really were being optimistic, weren't you? Thinking that I might agree to serve you even with this sort of history behind the Dark gods."

He could feel Krashnark grin, a cold shark's expression. _=*What has history got to do with it? As I said, I am the God of War, and that means whatever war my worshippers choose to fight. If you requested my aid in a crusade against my little brother, for example, I would give it gladly.*=_

Wufei blinked, then grinned back, just as coldly. "But not against your **father**, I'm guessing."

_=*...There are limits.*=_

- - - - - -

Time passed, slowly, but peacefully for once. Wufei welcomed his temporary isolation, cut off from outside contact except for Karthan's thoughts and Krashnark's mental visits; even those distractions were kept at a distance, both unwilling to bother him unless he called first. He ate ration bars and more of the small nearly-grapefruit, glad of the variety, and had time to think and heal over the next couple of days, cuts fading to white scars and then vanishing completely.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, others had time to heal as well- or not.

- - - - - -

"How is he?" Evark asked, low-voiced. Chihar grimaced.

"Stable, for now," the halfling surgeon sighed.

"Is that good or bad?"

"Both. Good, because he's not getting any worse. Bad, because he **should** be getting **better**." Chihar sighed again, pulling at his goatee. "He's running a fever, low, but constant. I can keep feeding him febrifuges, I've got the herbs, but that's just a stopgap measure. The chop to his leg went to the bone, and that's where I think the infection is. It's not going to clear unless it drains, and I doubt I can lance that deep without killing him. He could go on like this for years, or he could fail and die in a five-day, that's how delicate the balance is. He needs a healer."

The pendant under Evark's tunic twinged, cold and warning, and he grimaced. "Pray he makes it to Hurgrum and they've got someone as can help him, then, because he's not getting one here," he growled, glaring up at the white walls of Saramfal, capital of Saramantha, pearl of the elven kingdom. "Seems like Foam Beard still wants to keep him secret."

"Secrecy's not going to help him if he dies of wound-fever."

"And a healer's not going to save him if we get boarded by a shipful of Sharna's dog brothers," Evark snapped. "Chihar, I know he needs more than we can manage ourselves. I **know**! But Korthrala wants him to live as much as we do, maybe more, and he's still warning me off, which tells me that one word in the wrong ear will get us that shipful of trouble."

"Korthrala's worried about agents of the Dark gods, **here**?!" Chihar gestured at the city. "They're **elves**. Half of them were alive during the Wizard Wars, they're not going to serve the gods that drove them out of Kontovar!"

"You haven't been to Saramfal before, have you?" Holderman asked, moving up behind the pair.

"-eh? No, why?"

"Because it may be an elven city, but there's not much chance of us actually dealing with elves," the first mate told him, leaning on the rail. "The docks are in the Trade Quarter, and that might as well be a separate town."

"Oh."

"And I'm not about to trust elves just because they're elves," Evark muttered. "I've seen trader captains sell out to pirates for money, or fear, or just because they felt like being on the side doing the looting for once; I don't reckon elves are any more immune to changing sides."

- - - - - -

Holderman turned out to be right. Not only did the _Wind Dancer_'s crew not deal with elves as Evark negotiated fees for a pilot to Derm; they didn't even see one. The Trade Quarter was run by the Merchants' Guild, down to having their own guard force and city council, and the population seemed to be mostly human and dwarven. There were a few halflings skittering around the edges of the crowds - not Marfangers, judging by their height and behaviour, so the crew weren't tempted to mingle - and even a couple of hradani serving in the Guard.

And half-elves. Evark glanced to the side as his pendant chilled warningly, and the dwarf he was talking to followed his gaze to the elegantly garbed lord and his human underlings.

"I've seen him in Bortalik," Evark said in explanation, pulling his attention back to the conversation and trying to appear casual. "Didn't know the Purple Lords did their own business up here, though."

"They've got an embassy to Saramfal, and a separate one to the Trade Quarter," the dwarf shrugged. "That one comes up every few months; I think he's a courier for the Council of Lords, but he does plenty of trading on his own account."

"Makes sense, if he's here anyway," the halfling captain shrugged, carefully not looking sideways again even though the hair on the back of his neck was prickling; the half-elf had been heading in his direction. "So, how much is it to hire a pilot just to Derm? I'm not sure when we'll be coming back downriver."

"You aren't thinking of heading further east, are you?" the dwarf asked, scratching his beard. "I doubt there's any branch of the Upper Saram that'll reliably take a trading ship; the merchant caravans all switch to carts at Derm."

_Damn!_ "No, no," Evark said calmly, waving one hand dismissively and rolling his eyes to disguise his reaction to that piece of information. "It's just that I'm on charter, see, and my principal doesn't talk about his schedule with the hired help. Gods only know when he'll be ready to sail back; I'm not about to pay a pilot to stay on board while we sit at the docks twiddling our thumbs."

"That sounds terribly inconvenient," a cultured voice drawled above his head, and he barely managed not to spin around with his sword drawn. "Captain... Fletchhollow, wasn't it?"

"Pitchallow," he said cheerfully, turning with an eyebrow raised instead of his weapon. "M'lord Serthan, if I'm not mistaken? I hope the spices I sold your factor last month have given satisfaction- and did your lady wife like the silk?"

"I've heard no complaints," the half-elf sniffed, folding his hands inside his flowing sleeves. "What's this I hear about a charter?"

_Overhear, you mean, you point-eared nosy bastard-_ "That? I'm headed upriver to Derm. There's some cargo space to spare if you'd like to send anything along? I'll even give you a discount, seeing as how I'm headed there already." He cocked his head attentively, trying to look mildly avaricious. No Purple Lord would ever believe an innocent expression from a Marfang Island halfling, but they'd believe a trader captain looking for extra profit any day.

Serthan blinked. "Isn't Derm a little out of your usual range?"

"My principal didn't want to have to change ships, so he needed one that could both handle blue water and go upriver without bottoming out on the way. Thus my hire," Evark shrugged. "He's paying well enough." _And thank the gods Holderman and I managed to come up with a plausible story before it was needed..._

"And who **is** this so-financial principal?" the lord drawled, expression sharpening just a trace.

"Someone who's also paying for privacy, m'lord," Evark said mock-apologetically.

"Really!" Serthan huffed, seemingly offended, and yet... there was something off about his manner. "I don't see why you can't tell **me**. Aren't I a good customer?"

"Of course, m'lord!" _As Purple Lords go. Which means you're terrible by any other standard._ "So you'll understand that I can't discuss my principal's business," the captain continued, spreading his hands. "After all, I didn't discuss **your** business when you were planning that little trade coup with Southern spices to Belhadan, did I? It's the same now."

The half-elf practically pounced. "So it's some trade deal, hmm?"

Evark let a flicker of alarm show on his face. "Uh, I didn't say that."

"Oh, you can't fool **me**, Captain Fitcharrow," Serthan said playfully, waving one finger in the halfling's face. "Hmm, Derm; I'll bet it's weapons. No? Armour then. Don't bother to deny it, I can read you like a book. Well then, I shan't keep you..."

Evark waited until the half-elf was well clear, then snorted loudly and turned back to his previous conversation. "Ass," he said, voice loud enough to carry a little. "One day someone'll bite that damn finger of his off."

"I gather it's not weapons or armour, then?" the dwarf grinned.

"It's not even trade! Just between you and me-" he leaned closer and dropped his voice slightly- "somebody's looking at Baroness Ernos's daughter as a future match for their young son. Getting an early march on the competition, like."

"I should say so! Isn't the girl about four?"

Off to one side, the last member of Lord Serthan's retinue abruptly put down the fruit he'd been bargaining for and walked off. Evark pretended not to notice.

- - - - - -

On his way back to the docks after finishing his bargaining, the halfling captain took his time, strolling around the market and making several small purchases. He seemed indecisive, passing stalls with a shake of his head and then doubling back for a second look at the merchandise, but eventually he worked his way to the wide street that led down to the docks (called, imaginatively enough, Dock Street) and made his way back to _Wind Dancer_.

"How'd it go?" Master Holderman asked quietly.

"Serthan Du'hai Ardun is here, and being more curious than I like," Evark told him under his breath. "I think I fobbed him off, and I'm pretty sure nobody was following me, but all he'd have to do is send someone straight to the docks. Assuming he remembers the ship's name better than mine, though that could have been an act," he added as Holderman swore quietly through a fixed smile. "Is everyone on board?"

"Aye, Chihar came back just before you."

"Good. I want us ready to cast off the moment the pilot gets here, and I want the lookouts on watch for any ship that seems to follow us."

"Reckon Serthan was looking for our passenger?"

"Him, or someone else taking a message to hradani lands." Evark thought back to the quiet conversation he'd had with Brandark when the half-bard had first woken up. "I'm thinking Demon Breath isn't quite sure what all happened." He gave Holderman a meaningful jerk of his chin towards the companionway. "From what **he** told me, the leader of the ones hunting our passenger's friend had a cursed sword of some sort, but he was a bad swordsman and a fool to boot, and went down early in the fight. I reckon he had to be the only real link Sharna had in the group, or one of the others would have picked up where he left off; and without someone he can focus on, a god can't often see things in our world. So it's fairly likely the Scorpion knows the friend is dead - if he was important enough to be hunted down that way, his death would be important enough to be noticed - but for all he knows, there's twenty hradani making their way home with the news that the Dark have their fingers in the pie up north."

Holderman grimaced. "That's not exactly news I like to be carrying myself. Who's to say we aren't going to deliver the news to someone the Scorpion's got his claws on? I mean..." His voice trailed off and he looked eloquently at his captain.

"Aye, they're hradani," Evark nodded, answering the comment Holderman hadn't voiced aloud. "But I'm not about to write them all off, same as I'm not about to trust all the elves. Korthrala likes our passenger, so **he's** not following the wrong gods, and Foam Beard also wants this message delivered, so there's got to be people up there it's safe to deliver it to." He grinned suddenly, smoothing his moustache. "Besides, we've fought enough of the Wild Wash to know that they may be smugglers, bandits, and pirates, but the most of them are **honourable** smugglers, bandits, and pirates!"

The first mate snorted. "Oh, aye, weirdly honourable maybe but I'll give 'em that. All right, so we'll be good messenger boys and see how it goes. Did you arrange for a pilot to take us all the way, or just to Derm?"

"Hells, I'd almost forgotten that!" Evark scowled, tugging at his short hair. "We've got a pilot to Derm, but we probably won't be able to sail any further than that. The Upper Saram's not reliably deep enough."

"Ah, Phrobus piss on it! What are we going to do, then?"

"Damned if I know. Find a trading house and hire a couple of carts, maybe. There are regular caravans, so we'll manage **something**."

"We always do." Holderman managed half a smile, watching the dock traffic over his captain's shoulder. "Knowing you, we'll likely also come up with three trade deals and a cargo contract. -Is that the pilot?"

Evark turned and followed the pointing finger, squinting at the dwarf making his way purposefully towards their mooring. "Looks like. He's wearing the right colours, at least."

"Time we got moving, then," his second grunted, and stalked off, already bellowing orders. Evark stayed at the rail for a moment, eyes automatically following the dwarven pilot as he thought back to an earlier part of the conversation.

_Brandark didn't know how many of the Navahkians lived, but he thought there were some,_ he mused, rubbing his chin. _So for all I know, there really may be other hradani on their way home... though I don't know how eager they will be to spread the story, given as how it was their own prince gone over to Sharna and waving a cursed sword. They might. And if Demon Breath is digging his claws into one of the hradani cities, he's likely to be moving elsewhere, too._

_So who else is out there right now, dodging cultists and praying he makes it to someone as can do something about it?_

* * * * *

Kairic studied the little village from the shadow of the trees, scratching his stubble and frowning. He'd taken longer to reach it than he'd originally planned, even factoring in Greediguts's lameness; he wanted nothing to do with any Purple Lord forces right now, and the forest was uncomfortably cluttered with scouting parties. Only caution, wariness, and an unreasonably large helping of luck had enabled him to come this far without being sighted; now, however, it looked as if his luck might be running out.

_That's one hell of a lot of horses and armoured men,_ he mused, crouching lower behind his sheltering bush. _Damn. If I didn't know better, I'd say the army was quartering half a regiment here... and since I don't know better, that might be exactly what they're doing._ Narrowing his eyes, he tried for a moment to find an angle that would give him a better view, then sighed and sat back on his heels.

_I can't see any banners, and from this far away I can't make out any heraldry on their surcoats. They're wearing brown and blue, I think. If I want to get any more detail than that I'll have to work my way around, come at the village from the side without all the fields... so, __**do**__ I want to? Or do I want to give up on this village and head for somewhere else?_

_...Head somewhere else, I think,_ he decided regretfully. _It'll mean Greediguts goes a while longer without being re-shod, but this deep in Purple Lord lands the only armed forces that size are going to be the army, or some lord's personal forces. That's not Yithar's colours, but given how he looked when he passed me I'd say he was being hunted, so any of his relatives who come across me are likely to want to hush things up by hushing __**me**__ up. No, I'll swing further west-_

Something cold and sharp laid itself gently against his neck and cheek, and he froze.

"You look awfully suspicious lurking there like that, friend," a calm female voice said from behind him. "How about you come out where we can see each other properly, and you explain what you're up to?"

"If you **can** explain," a harder voice chimed in. "Personally I'd be happy to stick you right here and now, so I suggest you don't give me any extra reason to do it. Hands where we can see them and turn around, nice and slow."

Carefully, Kairic brought his hands up to shoulder height and shuffled around on his knees, leaning away from the blade. Close inspection - closer than he really wanted - revealed it to be a leaf-shaped spearhead, held admirably steady and polished bright enough to show him his own warped, wide-eyed reflection. It swung slightly as he turned, coming to rest with its point just barely pricking the hollow of his throat, and he resisted the urge to swallow hard as he looked up at his captors.

Three armoured women wearing moon-badged blue surcoats looked back at him. One was frowning darkly, suspicious blue eyes never leaving his own; there was a vicious scar running down her right cheek from hairline to throat, pulling the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile, but her expression could never have been mistaken for a friendly one. The other two were genuinely smiling, obviously amused, and even though one of them was holding the spear at his throat Kairic immediately judged them as far, **far** less dangerous.

Overriding everything else, though, was an immense feeling of relief. _Sisterhood of Lillinara - which means the ones in the village wearing brown are probably Order of Torframos, not the army. I'm __**safe**__._

Three sets of eyebrows lifted in surprise as Kairic grinned broadly, spear still at his throat and hands still lifted in surrender. "Gods preserve us, am I glad to see you!"

The spear-wielder blinked, then cocked her head towards the scowling woman without shifting her gaze. "Do you know, Kerry, I think he's serious?"

'Kerry' snorted, cropped black hair wafting in the breeze. "So long as he's not thinking good looks and a pretty smile will get him out of trouble."

"Actually, I'm thinking that relying on good looks and a pretty smile would probably get me **into** trouble, since I'm sure you've seen it all before," Kairic assured her honestly. "I was planning on doing exactly as I'm told and answering questions with the truth. Will that do?"

Almost unwillingly, the unscarred side of her mouth twitched up to match the other for a moment. "It's a start," she admitted. "I think I'll wait to see what exactly this 'truth' is before I give you any guarantees, though."

"Well, I know you aren't going to like it," he shrugged, relaxing a little more as the spear-wielder pulled her weapon back a judicious finger-width or two. "But it's not me you're going to be mad at, so I'm not tempted to make anything up."

"...Now that sounds **interesting**," the spearwoman murmured, regarding him with considerably more curiosity. "And more likely to be truthful than we were expecting, I think. Come along, then; I'm looking forward to hearing this story of yours."


	39. Chapter 38

"All right, you should be clear to move back into the centre of the channel," the dwarven pilot said, nodding to Holderman. The halfling nodded back, turning the _Wind Dancer_'s wheel a few degrees.

The halfling ship was moving under less than half sail, creeping upriver at a fraction of its usual speed. This branch of the Lower Saram river was the deepest and most easily navigable, but it still had a number of shifting shoals to be avoided; one of the dwarven trade families, based in Saramfal and Derm, made a good income by hiring out pilots with local knowledge of the latest hazards.

"We're coming into a good stretch now," the pilot added, relaxing slightly. "Good deep bottom, no snags, and the current's fast enough here that shoals can't form."

"Safe to speed up a bit, then?" Evark asked.

"Oh, aye." The dwarf watched with interest as Evark barked orders through his speaking trumpet, accompanying some with hand gestures or sharp whistles.

"I've not had a chance to see Marfangers at work before," he said in a quiet aside to Holderman. "Got to say I'm impressed."

"We try," Holderman said dryly.

"Shift back to port a mite," Evark told him, lowering his trumpet. "There's a ship coming downriver, give 'em room."

"Ship fine on the starboard bow!" the lookout called down. "Blue sail, white flag with a blue bird!"

"Derm's colours," the pilot put in, squinting ahead.

"...Are they, then?" Evark said slowly, frowning. "Tell me, Kelov, does Baroness Ernos buy many ships from the Purple Lords?"

"No, she has 'em built herself or buys from Saramfal," the pilot said, surprised. "Why?"

"Because that's a Purple Lord-built hull, or I'm a troll," the halfling captain said grimly, lifting his spyglass for a better view. He held it for only a few breaths before his hands tightened and he swore.

"Trouble?" Holderman asked quietly.

"They've repainted, but there's scars on the bow. She's been used to ram, more than once," Evark muttered, and whistled sharply, two short and one long trill. Across the deck, crewmen looked up.

"What's going on?" Kelov asked warily.

"Hopefully nowt," Evark told him, planting one hand in the small of the dwarf's back and pushing him towards the waist of the ship. "But I think you should spend the next few minutes over here, with Chihar, out of the way."

"Out of the way of **what**?"

"Just you be sitting down here next to me, eh?" the ship's surgeon told him, popping up apparently out of nowhere. "Now's not the time to be asking questions. Captain'll be happy to explain in a bit, I'm sure..." Kelov noted that he was twirling a belaying pin in one hand, an excellent cudgel if he chose to use it that way, and sat down slowly. The halfling might have slender wrists, but now he came to think of it, they were notably sinewy, and there were definite muscles under his sleeves.

Chihar dropped his free hand on the dwarf's shoulder and tugged him backwards a bit, until he was tucked in beside the stairs leading to the low stern castle. "We'll be snug enough here," he said, half to himself.

Up next to the wheel, Evark whistled again, then grunted. "Best we can do without being obvious," he muttered.

"Aye," Holderman nodded. "D'you want the wheel?"

"No. You'll do fine enough, and they might wonder why we swapped. One of 'em had a spyglass up."

"Ah." The first mate grinned sharply. "Same as that little tiff last year, then?"

"Aye."

The blue-sailed ship wallowed closer, moving fast with the current and wind behind it and riding high, not carrying any heavy cargo. It was a little longer and narrower than Purple Lord ships tended to be, but still recognisable as something built in Bortalik Bay; the half-elves relied on their strategic position to maintain their stranglehold on trade, far more than the quality of their ships.

Holderman's hands were light on the wheel, making minute adjustments, and several crewmen had moved to stand near particular ropes; one or two had partially unwound their ropes from the cleats holding them in place and were pretending to trim the sails, fussing over the tension.

"Think they'll time it right?" Evark asked suddenly, turning to raise one eyebrow at his friend and officer. "We're talking about Purple Lords, after all, or at least people who're willing to work with 'em."

"Who knows?" Holderman laughed, grinning back. "Even if they miss their cue, though, **we** won't!"

- - - - - -

Tyllar Du'hai Ardun's top lip curled in a sneer as he watched two of the halflings aboard the approaching ship laugh at some joke. "I think my father is being overly cautious," he told the lean human standing next to him. "Surely if they were carrying the message we're looking for they'd be more wary? And we're speaking of **halflings**, of all things!"

"True," the dog brother snorted. "The hardest part of killing them is likely to be chasing them down as they run. Still, orders are orders."

"Also true," Tyllar sighed. "Let's get this done quickly and return to port, hmm? Father's bird interrupted my lunch, and I left a delightful bottle of wine half-finished."

The ship's crew - dog brothers and cultists, every one - were as casual as their leaders as they moved into their assigned places. Part of their relaxed attitude was an act, of course, and part was due to the fact that they'd pulled off this trick three times already; and then, of course, they knew as well as Tyllar what they were facing. Halflings. Small, cowardly, and weak.

"Here we go," the dog brother murmured, and both he and the half-elf took a firm grip on the railing around the stern castle. Most of the crew were clustered a little way back from the ship's bow, prepared to rush forwards onto a deck half-wrecked by impact and populated by a stunned, demoralised rabble.

"**Now!**" the ship's captain barked, and the steersman spun the wheel, turning hard to starboard. The reinforced bow lurched sideways towards its target, aiming at the more fragile planks and ribs at the side of the oncoming Marfanger ship-

-that was also turning towards them, seeming to pirouette on its keel. Tiny figures hauled on ropes and the foresail snapped taut as the wind filled it, yanking the bow around even further until it was completely out of the cult ship's way. Other halflings stepped out from behind the forecastle and mast, arms raised as they swung something above their heads-

_Grappling hooks?_ Tyllar thought incredulously. "**They're** boarding **us**?!"

Iron hooks thunked solidly into the siderail and tangled in the rigging of the cult ship, and half the Marfanger ship's crew ran to haul on the ropes, letting their sails flap free as the two vessels crashed together. The other half were already climbing their own rigging, leaping with no apparent care for life or limb across the gap; one dog brother, braced for an impact from the front but not ready for one from the side, tumbled over the rail to be crushed between the two hulls. Before the half-elf could blink, a mob of short figures were spilling across the centre of his deck, and he paled as he realised that that put them **between** him and most of his crew.

There was a breathless pause as the cultists stood stunned, and the halflings settled their feet, swords and belaying pins at the ready; then the human next to Tyllar swore and drew his sword, teeth bared.

"**Sharna**!" he roared, and a few of the dog brothers joined in, shaken voices steadying as they recovered from their shock.

At the lead of the crowd of halflings, one with brown hair and a magnificent moustache took a deep breath. "**Korthrala**!" he roared back, just as deep and just as loud - then the slightly taller halfling next to him grinned and took a breath of his own.

_**"Marfang and no quarter!"**_ he bellowed, and the other halflings took up the cry as they swarmed forwards.

Tyllar whipped out his own narrow rapier, cursing himself. _So what if they were more alert than we thought? Here or on their ship, the outcome will be the same! This won't take long-_

The first halfling to reach him took the stairs to the stern castle two at a time and lunged, short sword thrusting for Tyllar's stomach. He parried easily and flicked his blade, stabbing at his opponent's eyes. The halfling ducked and twisted, and Tyllar blinked as the short man parried and jerked his head sideways, hooking one horn over the rapier and trapping it with his own blade. As he tried to pull back, another halfling slid past the first and swung a belaying pin into the side of the half-elf's knee.

He staggered backwards until he came up against the wheel with a thump, sword coming loose with a grating rasp. The knee wouldn't hold his weight, glass-sharp pain stabbing up his leg as he tried it, so he clung to the wheel with one hand for support as he brought his sword up again to face his two opponents- no, three- no, **four** now, plus several more surrounding the dog brother, almost dancing as they darted in to stab and jumped back from his counters. The ones in front of Tyllar sidled forwards, eyes wary behind lifted weapons, and he gulped as he realised that the overlapping scales on the armour shirt under his tunic might be excellent protection against overhand swings or straight-on thrusts, but provided almost no defence against an upwards thrust... like almost any attack made by an opponent half his size.

He'd been right. It didn't take long at all.

- - - - - -

"What's the count?" Evark asked grimly, looking around the deck of the captured ship.

"Kaedir and Peross are dead," Chihar told him. "Vannar might join them, and we've got three more seriously wounded, plus the usual complement of breaks and cuts. On their side-" He also looked around, and shrugged. "We haven't searched belowdecks, but if there's anyone left alive they aren't showing themselves."

"I think at least some of 'em had fought halflings, but they'd never fought Marfangers before," Holderman put in, carefully wiping his sword clean. "You could tell; none of 'em took us seriously until they started dying."

Evark bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "By which time it was too late," he agreed. "Well, I'm never happy to pay a butcher's bill, but at least this one's low."

"What d'you want done with the bodies?"

"Leave theirs on board," the captain directed, "and we'll fire the ship. I don't want anyone going below in case there's someone hiding down there, so we can't scuttle it, but burning it ought to work just as well. Carry ours back on board and sew them into canvas, same as if we were going to bury them at sea, but I'll be damned if I'll drop them in the same water as Demon Breath's men; keep them in the hold for now. Depending on how long this trip goes on, we'll either bury them at Derm or carry them back to sea with us when we're done."

"Aye," Holderman nodded.

"Before we do that, there's something I need to show you both," Chihar said, jerking his head towards the bow of the ship. They followed him, picking their way between bodies and bloodied patches of deck, until they reached a single body lying alone; a young halfling, lying on his back with his arms flung out to the sides, blind eyes staring up at the sky.

"Ah, damn," Evark sighed, crouching and reaching out to close the boy's eyes. "I'm not looking forward to telling his parents, that I'm not..."

Holderman frowned, studying the body. "What killed him?" he asked. "That blood's not his, I don't think." Crouching beside his captain, he reached for the boy's chest, moving to feel for wounds.

"Careful," Chihar said sharply, slapping his hands away. "You too, Captain." Drawing a narrow dagger, he used the point to carefully shift the folds of cloth at the shirt's neck. "Kaedar and Vannar and the others have sword-wounds and the like. Peross here... well, some bright boy had a moment to get him from range. Here."

Evark blinked at the tiny dart, hardly more than a whittled splinter with scraps of grey feathers tied to the end. "That little thing? Poison?"

"Aye. A couple of the men saw what happened; they say one of the dog brothers put his fist up to his mouth and Peross went down like a poleaxed horse, six feet away. I found this nearby." The surgeon showed them a narrow tube, small enough to be hidden in a human's hand. "I'm not getting close enough to that thing to sniff it, but I'd say there's only one thing it could be, and that's mindanwe sap. It only takes a scratch for it to stop your heart."

"Korthrala's teeth, but that's an ugly weapon," Evark swore. "Is there any way to defend against it?"

"Not really. There's no antidote - or if there is, nobody's ever taken it fast enough for it to save them." Chihar shrugged. "The darts aren't accurate further than about ten feet, and any sort of a wind will knock them off course, so they're not much use outside. This was a damn lucky shot. If it's any consolation, my teacher told me it's nearly as dangerous for the dog brothers to use as it is to be on the target side; at least one assassin's spiked his own thumb trying to load his blowpipe, and been found out when he fell down dead at his target's feet."

"Somehow, I'm not crying for 'em," Holderman snorted. "So, are-"

"What in all the gods' names is going **on**?!"

Twisting to see back over his shoulder, Evark spotted the pale-faced dwarven pilot standing by the rail. With Chihar tending to the dead and wounded, it looked like nobody had thought to keep him under wraps. "What's going on, Master Kelov, is us staying alive," he growled, eyes narrowing.

"Well, yes," the dwarf sputtered, gesturing helplessly at the carnage on deck, "but- why? Why would a ship from Derm attack you?"

"Because they aren't from Derm," Evark told him, straightening up. _Huh. Now I come to think of it, an independent witness wouldn't hurt..._ "They're a bunch of dog brothers and Purple Lords, and they were trying to keep us from taking a message east."

"**What**?! But- I- all right, Purple Lords might have their fingers in anyone's pie, but why would Sharna-worshippers care about some lordling's marriage plans?"

"Well, at least **somebody** bought that story," the halfling captain muttered, looking around. "Pity Serthan didn't."

"That ain't the message we're carrying," Holderman said kindly, reaching up to pat the dwarf's shoulder. "The real message is something that's likely to put a crimp in Sharna's plans, and that's probably all you want to know."

Only half listening to the conversation, Evark bent to one of the bodies and tugged the neck of its shirt open, then another. _One of 'em's got to be carrying... aha!_ "Here," he called, tugging a belaying pin out of his belt and using the narrow end to pick up a fine chain, drawing the attached pendant out into the sunlight. The gold scorpion was fine work, almost delicate, and the emerald forming its body was a flawless grass-green. "Trust a Purple Lord to have the best, even for something like this," he added, looking down at the half-elf's body.

"...Oh," Kelov said, sounding a little sick as he looked at the proof of Tyllar's allegiance. "That's... oh dear. Um. I... I guess that means your message is really important, then?"

"Oh, aye, it is that."

"Right. Um." The dwarf swallowed hard and straightened up, visibly stiffening his spine. "Well, in that case, you'd best finish up here and get under sail again before the current takes us back onto that shoal we avoided on the way up."

Holderman reached up and patted his shoulder again. "You know, I think you'll do just fine."

* * * * *

Waves threw sparkles of sunlight back into Commander Morash's eyes as he squinted at the approaching longboat, and he frowned. "Well, whatever they're up to, it's not a raid," he said dryly, nodding at the makeshift white flag flying from a reversed oar.

"Unless they're a diversion and the real attack is showing up somewhere else," Adric suggested mildly.

Morash snorted. "Nah, they wouldn't do that. Diversions, yes, but if they're going to attack then they damn well **attack**; you won't get a peaceful-looking diversion from the Wild Wash. They think it's dishonourable. If they come out under a flag of truce, they mean it."

The civilian mage quirked an eyebrow at him. "So... they'll steal, smuggle, pillage, and occasionally murder, but they won't be sneaky about it?"

"That's about right."

_Whitetip_ slowed as the longboat rowed into shouting range, balancing between the wind and currents. "Ahoy there!" Morash yelled through his leather speaking trumpet. "What business?"

"Well if it ain't Headbanger Morash!" the hradani in the longboat's bow roared back, grinning. "Nice talking to you without yer horns comin' at me face!"

"Gods save us, it's Sargrin Brokentooth," the commander called back, unable to hide his own grin. "Hide the beer!"

"It's uncommon cruel you are, Headbanger. An' here I was bringing a barrel to wet our whistles as we talked, an' all," the hradani said reproachfully, gesturing at the keg next to him as the longboat's oarsmen backed water, turning to match _Whitetip_'s course.

"Ah, that's different then," Morash admitted, leaning on the rail. "Boys! Belay that last order; hide **most** of the beer, and drop a ladder for the honourable chieftain." Shooting a glance sideways at the mage, he dropped his voice to a low murmur. "Ale means he wants to talk seriously, but he's not going as far as a lasting truce. We're on the same side until the alcohol runs out, essentially."

"What if he wanted a lasting truce?" Adric asked, fascinated.

"Meat and salt, and it'd last until one of us delivered a formal declaration of war," Morash told him, stepping back from the rail as his crewmen brought a rope ladder and a sling for the keg. "It'd be binding on the rest of his clan, too."

"And here I thought they just screamed and charged," the mage said dryly, rubbing at the base of one of his horns.

"Oh, they do plenty of that too," the commander grinned. "Sargrin! What's this all about, then?"

Swinging his leg across the rail, the hradani looked sharply at his tiny opponent. "I was about to ask you the very same question, that I was," he said, tone suddenly serious.

"Oh? And what've I done to make you wonder?"

Before he answered, Sargrin thumped the keg down on deck and casually stove in the top with his fist, tossing a horn cup to Morash and dipping his own in the dark ale. Sitting cross-legged, he took a long drink and watched, narrow-eyed, until the halfling dipped his own cup and took a gulp; a little of the tension went out of his shoulders then, and he smiled thinly.

"How long's it been since we first ran up against each other, Morash?" he asked. "Twelve years? Fifteen?"

"...Fourteen years this winter, if I remember rightly," the commander mused, easing down to sit opposite. "I cracked my right horn on that hard head of yours."

"Aye, y' hadn't got yer technique quite right yet," Sargrin snorted, one finger caressing a scar that ran up into his hairline, sprouting a white streak that wove through his waist-length black braid. "We've banged heads a few more times since then, and I'll give y' this, I've never known you to do anything less than honourable."

Morash paused with his cup halfway to his mouth, eyeing the hradani curiously. "Well, I thank you for the kind word."

"Mmh." Sargrin took another mouthful. "So it's wondering I was, when I saw with my own eyes three Marfanger warships turn around an' sail away, leaving a live demon behind 'em." His eyes were suddenly very cold, ears flattening. "Y' wouldn't be doin' anything **stupid**, now would you, Commander Morash?"

"...Ah," Morash said, leaning back. "That. And here I was, thinking you Wild Wash hadn't seen a thing! Your men are getting better at scouting, I gather." Glancing aside, he gestured to one of his officers with his cup. "Bring up that beer we didn't hide, and invite Sargrin's men up to join us. This is going to take a while, I think."

* * * * *

Relena shoved one last carnation into the vase with a little more force than was strictly necessary and stepped back to look critically at her handiwork, frowning. "I've never been any good at this," she sighed. "What do you think?"

"They look fine," Zechs told her. "There's really not much you can do wrong with a bunch of flowers."

"Maybe not, but there are a lot of things you can do **right** with them, and I never quite seem to manage it."

"Is that what the problem is?"

She turned to look at her brother. "What do you mean?"

Zechs didn't turn away from the book he was leafing through, but glanced sideways at her through his lashes, smiling. "You seemed to have some sort of personal grudge against the poor things."

Relena sighed again, sitting down. "I do have something on my mind, but I didn't realise it was showing."

He glanced sideways at her again, then closed his book and turned to look directly at her. "I got the distinct impression the other day- impression be damned, actually, I was directly **told** that if I mess up our second chance at a family relationship I will be answering to Duo Maxwell, and the thought does not appeal to me. Therefore I'm not going to try to guess the correct response here. Do I politely ask what's wrong, or maintain a diplomatic silence?"

"Oh dear." She covered her mouth, visibly struggling not to laugh. "I **am** sorry, Milliardo, I didn't realise that I was - ah - 'siccing' Duo onto you when I phoned him."

"I think I'll survive the experience, so long as he doesn't blame me for upsetting you while I'm still tethered here," he said dryly, gesturing to the rig holding his leg in traction. "So. Are you going to tell me what's on your mind, and if you do, am I required to actually come up with an intelligent response or just make soothing noises?"

"If you make soothing noises at me, I really **will** sic Duo onto you," she threatened. "Actually, if we can be serious about this for a moment, I would like to ask your advice."

"Ask away. I promise a serious answer even if I can't manage a useful one."

Relena looked down at her hands, marshalling her thoughts, then tilted her head to look at him. "Did... when Duo was talking to you, did he mention anything about he and the others... leaving?"

Zechs raised one pale eyebrow. "He did, actually. He didn't go into details, but he mentioned the possibility."

"It's more than just a possibility now," she said, a little bitterly. "They're planning to go- elsewhere. Vanish. And never come back. They wouldn't be able to keep in contact at all."

He grimaced slightly. "Given that I was planning the same thing myself, I can understand the appeal of the idea... no matter how painful it seems, looked at from the point of view of someone staying behind."

"Yes, but," she burst out, "it's not just that they want to. They say they **have** to, and yet- you thought you had to disappear, and Duo disagreed. Now **Duo** says he has to disappear, but when I disagree, he just says I don't understand!"

"Ah." Zechs frowned. "I have to admit, he had some excellent arguments against my plan. Did he explain why he- they- think they have to leave?"

"Their main reason - the only one I can't refute using the same arguments Duo used on you, in fact - is that they wouldn't be allowed to stay and have a normal life. They said," Relena went on slowly, groping for words, "that they would be seen as weapons, not people, and that I could protect **you**, but not all of them at the same time."

"Ah." He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "They may be right, Relena."

"That's what I don't understand! How is it right when they say it, but not right when you said it? Why are they weapons, but you can be a normal person?!"

"Because I **just** piloted Tallgeese," Zechs tried to explain. "I was a member of a recognised military organisation; I followed my orders for the most part, and when I disobeyed, nobody apart from my commanders knew about it. I'm not seen as being very different from a normal mobile suit pilot."

"Neither are they, then!" she insisted stubbornly.

"Oh, really?" He looked at her a little sternly. "The Gundams were the colonies' only weapons. They didn't have armies around them. They didn't have the luxury of being able to be 'just' mobile suit pilots. All by themselves, they had to do sufficient damage and be sufficiently feared to combat all of OZ's forces. That's where the problem lies, Relena. They had to be weapons of terror, and they did it very **very** well."

"But the Resistance-"

"-were essentially negligible," Zechs interrupted. "I mean no disrespect towards them, they were an effective force within their limitations, but those limitations were severe. They didn't have the numbers to be a serious threat. If it wasn't for the Gundams taking up so much of OZ's attention and firepower, they would have been crushed. The same applies to the Manguanacs. No," he went on in a gentler voice, "it was the Gundams that people worried about."

"Then why can't they just live quietly **without** the Gundams?"

"They did more than just pilot," he said wryly. "Take me out of Tallgeese and I can't do much more than anyone else. I flatter myself that I'm an excellent shot, but so are quite a few other people. Duo and the rest... well. The general public didn't get to hear much about it, but within OZ, a Gundam pilot out of his suit was feared nearly as much as he would be in it."

Relena looked at him with a doubtful expression, and he laughed, a little sadly. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Milliardo, they're just teenage boys! No matter what sort of exaggerated stories got passed around about them, I can't-"

"I first heard about Wufei when he blew up a barracks full of trainee mobile suit pilots and killed nearly sixty men," he cut in bluntly. "Trowa's favourite trick seemed to be impersonating an OZ cadet, living on base for weeks at a time until he got access to whatever classified information he was after, then blowing up their entire munitions stores to cover his escape. Heero wasn't as good at infiltration, but that never stopped him simply walking into secure installations and killing anyone who got in his way. Did you know he can bend steel bars with his bare hands? Quatre apparently didn't go in for direct confrontation as much as the others did, but we believed he was responsible for at least half of our data losses from hacking, and he never had a problem with using his personal wealth and influence as a metaphorical club. I'm sure you of all people understand how that can be as deadly as a gun, used properly. As for Duo, yes, he's your friend now; he would give you the shirt off his back or his last credit, and quite frankly I'm sure he would die for you if the occasion ever came up. He's that sort of person. And his estimated kill count, both in and out of his Gundam, is higher than any of the other pilots'. He never stuck to one method long enough to show a pattern - except for liking explosives - but his motto was 'anyone who sees Shinigami will die', and he lived up to it. Need I go on?"

Relena's eyes were wide with shock. "...Oh."

He reached out to gently take her hand, smiling again. "Don't misunderstand me! I respect them, all of them. Treize respected them. It was a nasty, cruel war, but they did what they had to do and no more. They protected civilians as much as possible; I can't say the same for OZ, sadly. But... yes. They were weapons of war, because they had to be, and they can't change that just by walking away from their Gundams."

* * * * *

"Well," Duo muttered, staring at his laptop screen, "I guess I can't put this off any longer." Grimacing, he reached out and typed a quick string of commands and passwords, so well-remembered that he didn't even have to think about them any more.

A com window opened, blinking "CALLING" for a few seconds, then clearing to show a familiar face.

[ [ About time you called! ] ] Howard growled, leaning in close and scowling behind his sunglasses. [ [ Much longer and I woulda tracked you down and kicked your ass, kiddo. ] ]

"I was busy!" Duo protested, grinning in spite of himself.

[ [ Busy? **Busy**? With what?! War's over, in case you didn't notice! ] ] Leaning back, Howard spread his hands and looked around with an exaggerated expression of surprise, as if he was only now noticing that himself. [ [ World seems to have broken out in a sudden case of peace! Amazing. Which makes me wonder just what the hell Heero is smoking, sending me this damn e-mail about not getting rid of any parts yet because you lot might be needing them. Not planning on starting things up again out of boredom or anything, are you? ] ]

"What would you do if we were?"

[ [ I'd come over there and spank the lot of you until you developed sense, ] ]came the prompt answer. [ [ And I know you have **some** sense - at least, you did when you were working for me! Don't tell me you've gone and lost it all. ] ]

"I'm pretty sure we haven't, Howie. Call it planning for contingencies."

[ [ Damn. Maybe you have still got some sense after all, kiddo; I've only been telling you to plan for the unexpected for, oh, years now. ] ] Howard grinned suddenly, leaning on his elbows. [ [ You're looking good. ] ]

Duo snorted. "Ah, you only say that 'cause you can't see the crutches. You're not looking bad yourself, old man."

[ [ Don't you call me old, you- **what crutches**?! ] ]

"Ehh, the ones I need to walk on my bunged-up knee that's kind of in a locked brace. I get to unlock it and start therapy tomorrow if my doctor agrees, though."

[ [ Therapy?! What the hell did you do to yourself? ] ]

"Popped my ACL and had to have surgery to fix it. Like I said, I was busy," Duo shrugged.

Howard peered suspiciously at him from the screen. [ [ ...What else? ] ]

"Whaddaya mean, 'what else'?" he protested, looking away. "Major surgery with general anaesthetic, did I mention I hate that shit, isn't enough for you?"

[ [ Nope. Something else is going on. I know you, kid, ] ] Howard said seriously, sliding his sunglasses down to stare at Duo over them. [ [ Whatever it is, spit it out. ] ]

"...This kinda has to do with us maybe needing the parts," Duo said, wriggling a little in his seat. "We're going to be going somewhere, and the supply chain is gonna be kinda... long. Actually, nonexistent."

[ [ There ain't nowhere on this planet you can go that I can't get parts to you **somehow**, ] ] Howard objected. [ [ Hell, there ain't many places **off** this planet where I can't get parts to you! ] ]

"How are you at interdimensional deliveries?"

Howard blinked at him. [ [ ...What the **fuck** are you talking about? ] ]

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that," Duo sighed, resting his forehead on one hand. "Oh boy."

- - - - - -

Fifteen minutes later:

"Quatre!" Duo yelled, leaning around his laptop's screen to direct it at the door.

"I'm a little busy, Duo," came Quatre's voice, sounding slightly stressed.

"Can you get un-busy? I need you to come tell Howard I haven't gone nuts, I'm not smoking dope, and I'm not on any painkillers!"

"...Fine," Quatre answered after a brief pause. "While I'm doing that, you can come here and tell Rashid the same thing about me."

Duo reached for his crutches, then paused halfway through levering himself up out of his seat. "Q, are you seriously telling me that Rashid asked any of that?"

"No," Quatre grumbled, appearing in the doorway, "but I know his expressions, and he was thinking **really loudly**."

"That'll be a nice change from Howie just **yelling** loudly."

[ [ Like I'm gonna keep my mouth shut when you try to tell me some sort of bullshit- ] ]

Swinging out of the room, Duo let the door slam behind him, cutting off Howard's aggrieved rant. Quatre's laptop was set up on the dining table, and he dropped into the chair in front of it with a loud sigh. "Hi, Rashid. Quatre told you what we're doing?"

Rashid's naturally grim face was nearly expressionless, but a certain tightness about the eyes could have indicated either anger or worry. [ [ Master Duo, ] ] he said politely, half-bowing. [ [ Master Quatre says that you are... planning a trip. ] ]

"Yep," Duo confirmed, leaning his crutches against the table and getting comfortable. "To another world, via a huge explosion. Did he explain the bit about the Trousers of Time, or hadn't he gotten that far?"

[ [ Master Duo, ] ] the huge man said in a strained voice, [ [ you... this... you cannot be **serious**. ] ]

"I prefer being casual, but yeah, we're serious." He shrugged. "Wufei got blasted into another world, and we're going to try to follow him. We aren't joking, insane, drugged, or otherwise not in our right minds. The Doctors think they can pull it off- actually, you should probably talk to Instructor H! If anyone can explain it properly, he can, though it's anyone's guess as to whether he can do it without lapsing into higher mathematics. At least you can be sure **he** isn't joking."

[ [ I shall, ] ] Rashid agreed reluctantly. [ [ I must admit that Master Quatre is not the type to make such a joke... and although you might joke, Master Duo, you do not insist that you are not joking after being asked. ] ]

"Ha. Tell Howard that, will ya?"

On his way back into the lounge room, Duo bumped into Quatre, also apparently finished talking to Howard.

"How did it go?"

"He doesn't want to believe it, so I passed the buck and told him to talk to H," Duo shrugged. "How about you?

Quatre laughed. "I did the same! He's calling Doctor G right now, I think."

"Why didn't we think of that before?" Duo complained, rolling his eyes. "I coulda gotten out of fifteen minutes of Howard ranting at me!"

"You probably didn't think of it **because** Howard was ranting at you," Quatre told him dryly.

"Why didn't you think of it, then? Don't tell me Rashid was ranting at you, 'cause I won't believe it. Damn, Q-man, you've got to think faster than that; I'm disappointed in you!"

"Don't you start! If we're blaming each other, why didn't you get Howard and Rashid into a conference call with Orfressa?" Quatre teased. "You've got a goddess willing to vouch for your word, so why not use her? They'd have to believe us then."

"Aw, man, that would make it easy, wouldn't it?" Duo sighed, looking wistful. "I wish I could- hang on. Maybe I **can** get her to talk to other people!" His eyes lit up with an unholy joy. "That would be **awesome**!"

"I'm going to regret suggesting that, aren't I?"

"Only if it works."

* * * * *

The _Osprey_ was under way again, moving with a rhythmic lift-and-swoop motion over the waves. The weather was staying fine, so that the members of the Order of Torframos only had to deal with the natural results of a Marfang Island captain's desire for speed, and Vaijon had finally adjusted to the ship's motion.

_Thank all the gods that we got passage on a ship that normally transports cloth and grain,_ he told himself, stooping almost double as he passed through a low doorway into one of the large cabins Captain Grantik had made available for his passengers. _I'd still be turning green every time I came below decks if I had to deal with the smell of fish!_

He sat down on his pallet, not much more than several blankets on the floor, and leaned back carefully after making sure he wasn't directly under one of the heavy beams holding up the deck above; he'd nearly concussed himself twice and didn't want to do it again. Built to maximise cargo space without sacrificing speed, the _Osprey_'s below-decks spaces were cramped even for her normal halfling crew and positively claustrophobic for a human as tall as he was.

_Even Sir Wufei wouldn't fit,_ Vaijon mused, one hand moving to press against the slight bulge under his tabard. _Though I can't imagine him being careless enough to hit his head. I wonder how he's dealing with the trip? I think that little room inside Nataku is large enough for him to stand up straight, but it's not much wider than it is tall..._

He was alone in the cabin, everyone else having gone up on deck for fresh air. A little guiltily, he reached under his tabard and pulled out a handful of silky black fabric, spreading it out over his knee. The light was dim, with no windows and only one lamp lit in the cabin, but he didn't need to see; his fingers knew every curve and snagged thread in the embroidery, tracing the outlines of the dragon that snarled up at him from the remains of Wufei's sleeveless shirt.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when a footstep and a muffled curse from the corridor alerted him to another passenger approaching, and he hastily stuffed the ragged square of cloth back under his tabard. When Terrin shuffled in, almost tripping over the door sill, Vaijon was rummaging through his scanty roll of possessions, pulling out a sharpening stone and oil.

"I'll be glad to get off this ship in Belhadan," Terrin muttered, nodding politely to the knight-probationer. "They're good people, but m'back's never going to be the same."

Vaijon had to laugh. "I feel your pain, Goodman Terrin, but I think I have to fear permanent bruises on my forehead more than a bad back."

Terrin grinned back at him. "Just you wait a few years, Sir Vaijon. After a while, things start complainin' at a man if he bends funny." Digging through his own pack, he pulled out several new arrow shafts and a cloth bundle, turning to head out again.

Impulsively, Vaijon called out to stop him. "Goodman Terrin? Might I have a moment of your time?"

"...Aye," Terrin said, looking back at him curiously. "What is it, Sir Vaijon?"

"Might I ask-" Vaijon hesitated, blushing slightly, then went on. "I understand why Cord and his daughter chose to accompany us, but - excuse me - I don't believe I've heard your motive. May I ask why you came along?"

Terrin grunted, easing down to sit on the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. "Huh. Well, you wouldn't have heard my motive, no, for I've not told it to anyone here."

"I beg your pardon. I don't wish to pry if you would prefer not-"

"Nah, 'tis all right." Terrin waved off his protests. "I'm not sure why," he added, looking searchingly at Vaijon's face, "but I think you'll understand."

There was a long pause as the hunter looked down at the deck below them, frowning as if he could stare through it if only he looked hard enough; then he sighed, looking up with an almost shy expression. "It's Sir Wufei. I'm following him."

Vaijon blinked. "Why?"

Terrin laughed. "Damned if I know! It's just- it feels right, you know? It didn't occur to me to question it. Your Champions said Sir Wufei would be travelling with you, and I just thought, 'Well, I guess I'd better pack'. It wasn't until my brother asked me why that I thought about it, and all I could tell him is what I'm telling you; it feels right. I think about Sir Wufei going to other lands, doing whatever it is he has to do, and it's like part of me says 'I'll be there with him'. I can't... I can't **not** follow him, somehow. I'd always thought that I'd live out my days in the village where I was born, but now something tells me that my place is here. With him. D'you see?"

The knight-probationer swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes. I do understand, I think. It's very like..." He swallowed again. "Ever since I can remember, I've believed - I've **known** - that I was meant to serve one of the Gods. That I was **needed**. It's why I joined the Order."

"Yes!" Terrin burst out eagerly. "That's it exactly. Like he may not know it yet, but he'll need me sometime." He was relaxed now, smiling, as if telling Vaijon had taken a weight off his mind. "I knew you'd understand, Sir. It just took me longer than you to find who I had to follow."

After Terrin had gone, Vaijon stayed sitting on his pallet, one hand pressed to the cloth hidden under his brown-and-gold tabard.

_I'm not so sure, Goodman,_ he thought glumly. _I think you found him first..._

* * * * *

The secret temple of Krashnark beneath Navahk was still empty most of the time, which made it the perfect place to discuss things best kept secret... or to argue about them.

"I'm saying we need Arsham," Yurgazh said stubbornly.

"And I'm saying I'm not about to trust one of Churnazh's sons any further than I can spit," Mathel said, just as stubborn and considerably more angry. "He might be the only one of 'em as hasn't been sniffing after every skirt in the Palace, but he's still Black Churnazh's blood!"

"And I don't think he's any happier about it than you are," the Guard captain persisted. "He's no knight in shining armour from a bard's song, no, but he's at least decent - decent enough that Churnazh's toadies call him 'weak' and 'over-civilised'." He snorted. "A'course, they say that because he doesn't rape, isn't a bully, and won't let them suck up to him for favours. The important thing is, if it's a choice between him and Churnazh, most of the army will follow him."

=*You're going to need the army,*= Krashnark said out of thin air, and Yurgazh flinched violently, ears flattening. Mathel ignored his reaction, standing straight and glaring upwards.

"We can get the army without bringing in Arsham Churnazhson!"

=*Not easily, and not nearly quickly enough,*= the god told her calmly. =*You would need to recruit individuals one by one; sooner or later one would betray you, and when the time came to move our forces would be disorganised. If you recruit Arsham, not only will you gain the army as a unit, you will avoid arguments over the succession.*=

"You want to put him on the **throne**?!"

=*Yes.*=

The flat acknowledgement took some of the wind out of Mathel's sails, and Akar tentatively patted her shoulder. "There's sense in it," he told her. "The courtiers won't follow him because he's illegitimate, so Churnazh and his other sons don't see him as competition, but we don't want their support anyway."

"If this works, we'll be getting rid of the lot of 'em," Yurgazh put in, sounding almost gleeful at the prospect.

"Aye." Akar nodded. "The old noble families, those that are left, will likely accept him; they'd squabble if we tried to suggest someone from their own ranks."

"...I still don't like the idea," she told him, glaring until he took his hand off her shoulder. Nobody was foolish enough to tell her she didn't **have** to like it, but it was plain from her frustrated expression that she understood.

"Well," she said eventually, putting her hands on her hips and glaring upwards again, "do you have any useful suggestions as to how we're to convince him? Bastard or not, he's got to be wary of people inviting him to join them in a conspiracy; he'll likely decide that either we want him as a figurehead, or one of his brothers is trying to trick him into being caught betraying his father."

=*Bring him here.*=

Akar looked doubtful. "Are you sure, Lord? If he takes the idea badly, we'd have to abandon the temple if he knew where it was. He could bring all Churnazh's forces down on top of us with a word."

=*And you the man who called it 'this bloody huge useless temple',*= Krashnark said mildly. =*I would have thought you'd be delighted at the opportunity to get rid of it. It's a risk; he is a hradani, after all, so he could very well tell me to mind my own business and leave him to his. Still, it's a risk that needs to be taken.*=

"I have to admit, Lord, you're convincing when you want to be," Akar said ruefully. "It could work."

"If his heart doesn't stop when you talk to him out of thin air," Yurgazh muttered quietly, ears still half-flat. "I know **I'm** never going to get used to that..."

Mathel's ears were slowly shifting backwards as well. "First you say we can't get the army 'quickly enough' without Arsham, and then that we need to take risks. Just how fast do we need to be moving here, Lord?"

=*Probably faster than is prudent,*= came the answer, in serious tones. =*There are forces moving that you **must** be ready to meet.*=

"Hurgrum?" Yurgazh asked. "But we're heading into winter! The Horse Stealers aren't fool enough to start a campaign **now**!"

=*The Horse Stealers are not the only problem. Bring Arsham here if you can,*= Krashnark said shortly, and then fell silent in a somehow final way.

"...He's not going to explain that, is he?" Yurgazh asked eventually.

"I don't think so, no," Akar agreed.

"**Lovely**. I hate heading into battle without clear intelligence. Ah well." Yurgazh cocked one ear at Mathel. "If I get us in to see Arsham, d'you think your unspeakable eloquence can get him to come here without a full explanation?"

"My **what**?!"

"Well, you got **me** here, didn't you?"

- - - - - -

Krashnark leaned back from his scrying window, letting it blur as its focus moved away from the Navahkian temple. _They'll do well enough,_ he decided, turning his attention southward. _Now, if I-_

=*KRASHNARK.*=

He looked up, startled, and then followed the brusque summons, flicking directly into his father's chambers without taking the time to walk the corridors between.

"Yes, my lord father?" he said respectfully, sinking to one knee and bowing his head.

=*YOU SEEM... MORE INDUSTRIOUS LATELY,*= came the heavy thought, almost a physical weight against his mind. =*I AM PLEASED TO SEE YOU TAKING AN INTEREST IN YOUR CHURCH ONCE AGAIN.*=

"Thank you, my lord."

The thought darkened. =*IT WAS UNSEEMLY OF YOU - MY GENERAL - TO NEGLECT YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES SO. IF YOU HAD ALLOWED THIS STATE OF AFFAIRS TO CONTINUE MUCH LONGER, I WOULD HAVE HAD TO MAKE MY DISPLEASURE APPARENT.*=

Krashnark bowed his head further, eyes on the stone floor beneath him. "Forgive me, my lord father. It shall not happen again."

=*SEE THAT IT DOES NOT.*= Phrobus's attention sharpened on him, an almost palpable sensation. For a fleeting moment, Krashnark wondered if it was anything like Wufei's sense that told the little human-demon when he was being watched, then dismissed the distracting speculation.

=*I NOTE THAT YOU HAVE NOT SUCCEEDED IN RECRUITING THAT DEMON TO YOUR SERVICE.*=

He hid a wince. "No, my lord father."

=*FAR FROM IT, IN FACT. HE APPEARS TO BE CONSIDERING ENTERING TORFRAMOS'S ORDER.*=

"Ah... I think not, my lord; he has merely made friends with some of Torframos's servants, and travels with them because he has no reason to do otherwise," Krashnark said carefully. "He resists overt persuasion. I have adopted a more... indirect strategy for the time being."

=*I SEE.*= There was a tense pause before Phrobus seemed to shrug, directing his attention elsewhere. =*DO NOT ALLOW YOUR CONCENTRATION ON THIS ONE DEMON TO DISTRACT YOU FROM YOUR OTHER DUTIES.*=

"No, my lord father."

=*YOU MAY GO.*=

"Thank you, my lord." Rising, Krashnark took a couple of steps backwards before turning to go, lifting his gaze at the last moment for one quick glance at his father. The indistinct dark blur that was Phrobus's presence hovered over and around his immense throne, cloaking it in shadow, and Krashnark hid a shiver as he flicked back to his own quarters. Phrobus's amorphous non-physical body was simultaneously a reminder of what he could do, what he had once dared to do... and what he should never have done.


	40. Chapter 39

"Wanna bet?" Duo asked, eyes sparkling dangerously.

Doctor Modi sighed. "Mister Maxwell-"

"C'mon, Doc, you were calling me Duo before the op!"

"Very well. Duo. When I told you that most patients do not manage to re-bend their knee on the first try, I did **not** mean that as a challenge," the doctor said, looking sternly at him over his glasses. "I told you in the hope that you would not feel bad if you do not succeed today. I am also **not** going to bet that you cannot, as I am quite sure you would do whatever it took to win the bet, up to and including ripping the carbon fibre I implanted in your knee away from the fuse points and having to start all over again."

"You know him so well," Heero muttered under his breath.

"The only reason I am allowing you to try today, instead of telling you to go home and come back in three or four days, is because the incision has healed remarkably well," the doctor continued, showing no sign of having heard Heero. "Hopefully the inside of your knee is similarly advanced in healing. However! I want you to promise me that if your knee starts to hurt too much as you bend it, you will **stop**."

Duo grinned. "Whatcha gonna do if I don't promise?"

"Relock your brace," Modi grinned back, "and possibly call in Maintenance to weld it shut. By the time you manage to get loose, your knee should have healed enough to take a little abuse."

Duo laughed out loud, and Heero relaxed as he saw that the dangerous glitter in his eyes had softened to genuine amusement. "Oh man, that's low, Doc! And I bet Heero wouldn't help me get out of it either."

"I'd be terrified of doing something wrong and hurting you," Heero said truthfully.

"Okay, okay, I'll be good," Duo sighed. "Just one more question. What's your definition of hurting 'too much'? 'Cause I think my level of 'too much' is higher than yours."

"Considering your opinion of painkillers that you expressed so - ah - fluently a week ago, I'm quite sure it is," Modi agreed. "You should experience the sort of pain you would feel from an overworked muscle, an ache rather than a sharp pain. If you feel a stabbing sensation, or any sudden increase in the amount of pain, stop."

"Yes Doc **sir**," Duo said, saluting. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Very well," the doctor nodded, moving to start unlatching the brace. "Bear in mind that if you do manage to damage your knee further, I will tell Doctor Po and let her deal with you."

"Ooooh, now that's a scary thought."

Dr Modi handed the brace to Heero, still supporting Duo's ankle with one hand, then slowly let go. "Carefully now..."

Duo frowned, concentrating. "Okay, here we go." Slowly, he bent his knee a few degrees. "Nothing bad so far," he muttered, pushing a little further.

"You are not just ignoring the pain?" Modi asked, raising an eyebrow, and Duo snorted.

"I said I'd be good, Doc," he said, pausing for a moment to mock-glare. "It feels like I pulled a couple of muscles in there, sure, but nothing too serious. Maybe sitting in the spa with the jets on every day helped?"

"I suppose that is possible. Do continue, then."

Slowly, still frowning, Duo bent his knee until it reached the full ninety degrees. "Awright! And I didn't even cheat," he laughed, looking up to grin at Heero.

"Nice," Heero smiled back, unobtrusively ticking off a mental checklist of 'Signs Duo Is Hiding Something'. _His colour's fine, his eyes are steady, that's a real grin not a forced one, his hands are relaxed... hm. It really __**didn't**__ hurt that much._

"I must say that I am impressed, Duo," Modi told him, smiling. "Now, I will adjust the brace so that it allows a little movement, but you do still need to use the crutches-"

"-if I'm moving more than a few steps, for three months or so, until I've done enough therapy to switch to a lighter brace, yeah? I **was** listening when you explained all that, Doc," Duo said cheerfully. "I've been good this long, I can survive being good some more."

"My goodness." The doctor blinked behind his glasses, looking genuinely startled. "Mister Maxwell - Duo - I can truthfully say that although very few of my patients manage to re-bend their knee on the first try, even fewer actually remember the instructions for more than five minutes."

"Har har."

As Modi bent over the brace, adjusting the joint at the knee, Duo frowned again. "Um... Doc, speaking of instructions..."

"Yes?"

"...We might end up moving in a couple of months," Duo told him slowly, glancing in Heero's direction. "I'm gonna need to do physiotherapy for four or five months, right?"

"Approximately that, yes. I can give you a referral to a therapist near your new home if necessary," Modi said, still concentrating on the brace.

"Yeah, we might end up kind of out in the boondocks. Nowhere near a town, let alone a hospital. Any chance I can get written instructions so I can finish the therapy myself?"

**That** brought Modi's head up to stare at him. "...I would be much happier if you were under the supervision of a properly qualified doctor," he said eventually. "Can Doctor Po not make, ah, house calls?"

"Proooobably not."

"We're likely to be completely out of contact for a long time," Heero put in bluntly. _'Forever' is 'a long time', after all..._ "Duo will need to be able to do exercises and so on by himself."

The long-haired pilot shot him a grateful look. "Yeah, what he said. If I get detailed instructions I promise to follow them and everything, honest."

"...I see," Modi said eventually, not sounding completely convinced. "I will speak to your therapist, **and** Doctor Po, and we shall see what we can do, hm?"

- - - - - -

"Do you want to go straight back and gloat, or can we do an errand on the way home?" Heero asked, holding the car door open for Duo to negotiate his way into the seat.

"Depends. Is it a fun errand?"

"Gem buying."

"Yeah, that's fun!" Duo told him, buckling up. "Where to?"

"Mineshaft," Heero told him, checking a list with the first four or five entries ticked off. "They apparently do some good deals on loose stones, opals, garnets, that sort of stuff."

"Ooh, definitely fun! Is that one of Q's contacts?"

"Trowa's, actually," Heero shrugged, sliding the list back into his pocket and starting the car. "I've been saving this one for today because it's near the hospital."

"Sorry I haven't been able to help much," Duo said, a little sheepishly. "We've got a ton of stuff to do before I can even get 'Fress to put me in touch with Wufei..."

Heero shot him a wry sideways glance. "You and Quatre have been doing all the planning, Duo - and besides, we only have one car at the moment. Even if you could take a turn out buying supplies, it wouldn't speed things up at all."

"I still feel kinda lazy sitting on my ass."

"You're also better than me at finding bargains online. I wouldn't have spotted that wholesale bead website as a good option. Exactly how many thousand pearls and garnets did you get?"

"Okay, okay, you win, I'm helping," Duo grinned.

* * * * *

Wufei yawned, stretched as far as he could in the limited space available, and then finished getting dressed after the sketchy wash he could manage with a rag and a cupful of water.

_Space missions were good practice for spending ten days underwater, I suppose,_ he thought, wrinkling his nose at his dirty clothes and stuffing them into a storage bin. _At least I'm not stuck in an atmosphere suit! I'll have to do a full purge of the environmental system as soon as we arrive at Belhadan to get things smelling clean again, though._

=*Good morning, Wufei,*= Krashnark's voice said out of thin air. =*Did you sleep well?*=

"Good morning, Krashnark," he said politely, glancing upwards. "Reasonably well, yes, though I'm looking forward to a night in a real bed." A mental 'nudge' at Nataku's controls sent the Gundam into motion, following the _Osprey_ north, and he reached for another storage cabinet. "And actual cooked food," he added wryly, pulling out a ration bar and one of his dwindling supply of citrus fruits. The little green not-quite-grapefruit were keeping well, and Wufei made a mental note to save one to show Uthmar. _Since I don't know what they're called, I can't just ask for them by name..._

=*Belhadan has all the comforts a city can provide,*= Krashnark chuckled, =*and I'm sure my uncle Torframos's chapter house is- what are you **doing**?!*=

Wufei blinked and nearly dropped his meal, startled by the sudden panicked yelp. "Ah... having breakfast?"

=*Where did you get that fruit?! It's mindanwe! Wufei, that's **poisonous**!*=

"...Krashnark, I've been eating these for four days," he said slowly. "Exactly **how** poisonous are they?"

=*...*=

"**Krashnark**?"

=*...Deadly,*= the god said in a rather dazed voice. =*You should have collapsed while the first bite was still in your mouth.*=

"Oh," Wufei said, eyes wide. "Um. That's... very poisonous, yes."

=*Given that you're fine, they must not be poisonous to **you**,*= Krashnark told him, recovering some of his usual poise. =*Normally, everything about the plant is poisonous, to the point where even picking the leaves is dangerous. The sap is used as an assassin's weapon.*=

"Well. That's one advantage to technically being a 'demon' that I hadn't expected." Eyeing the fruit a little warily, Wufei balanced it on one of Nataku's control panels and unwrapped his ration bar, taking a bite and chewing as he thought. "That might explain the little group of trees where I got these," he said eventually. "They were out in the middle of nowhere, and someone had cut into the bark and then scraped up some sap. I only found them because I could smell it."

=*That would have been in the Shipwood, yes?*= Krashnark's voice soured a little. =*Sharna has quite a presence among the Purple Lords, and his dog brothers use mindanwe. It doesn't grow well further north, and usually gets ripped up and burned whenever it's found.*=

"That must be a dangerous undertaking," Wufei said dryly.

=*Oh, yes. Farmers usually tie ropes around it, drag it out of the ground with a team of horses, and then burn it ropes and all. **Not** on a windy day, obviously.*=

"Ugh. You know, this is actually rather worrying."

=*How so?*=

Wufei grimaced. "If I can happily eat something that's deadly poison to people from this world, what if it goes the other way? Is there something **they** eat that's deadly poison to **me**?"

=*...I certainly hope not.*=

* * * * *

"Can I help you with that?"

Rami looked up from the well to see the blond guardsman smiling hopefully; after a moment she smiled back, and nodded. "If you don't mind?"

He took her place at the windlass and started cranking, hauling the full well bucket upwards. "My name's Kairic," he said politely. "I believe we met about three five-days ago, though I didn't exactly get a chance to be introduced..."

"You were a little busy," she told him, looking back down modestly. "My name's Rami. Is it true, what I heard? Lord Yithar's gone mad?"

"I don't know if he's mad, exactly," Kairic said, grimacing. The hook reached the lip of the well and he set the brake, then reached over to swing the bucket closer to her. "He's gone over to the Dark Gods, that's for sure."

She shivered theatrically, emptying the well bucket into one of her own, bigger buckets, then passed it back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "You must be **very** brave, getting away and bringing warning like you did."

He blushed slightly, ducking his head as he sent the rope down again. "Not really; I was just running," he shrugged. "It was pure luck that I reached here and found someone official to tell."

"Good luck for us, then!" Rami smiled at him again, noting his reaction with a certain amount of smugness. "You've been talking to the Sisterhood mostly, haven't you? Aren't they wonderful?"

"And a little scary," he confessed. "I nearly w- er- jumped out of my skin when they came up behind me yesterday."

"Oh yes, that was Dame Kaeritha's patrol, wasn't it?" Rami giggled. "She's very nice."

"The, um, scarred lady knight?" Kairic looked uncomfortable. "Er... nice? Really?"

"Of course! She's been here for nearly ten days, you know, so we've had time to get to know her. You'll see. -Thank you, that's plenty of water," Rami added, sliding the yoke onto her shoulders and hooking the buckets onto it.

"Can I carry that for- ah," he trailed off as she stood up effortlessly. "I guess not."

"I can handle this just fine," she told him airily, inwardly stifling another giggle. "You can open the gate for me if you like, though."

"Certainly," he told her, smile recovering.

"That one there," she told him, nodding towards the low fence surrounding her mother's kitchen garden. _And then I can ask you in for tea,_ she thought, watching him hurry ahead, _and I don't think you'll refuse... then it'll be time for Papa and the others to come in for lunch, and I can invite you to stay for that. And then we'll see,_ she mused.

* * * * *

"Hello Iria," Quatre said, smiling at his oldest sister's image on the screen. "How have you been?"

[ [ Well, thank you, ] ] she said with a subdued smile. [ [ And you? ] ]

"Quite well. I'm enjoying a little peace and quiet," he laughed, carefully not glancing sideways at the diminishing piles of handwritten notes on the dining table. _Relative peace and quiet, at least, compared to the last couple of years!_

[ [ Ah. ] ] Iria's smile thinned. [ [ That's nice. ] ]

Quatre frowned slightly, studying her expression. "Iria? What's wrong?"

[ [ Nothing. ] ]

"Really?" Quatre raised one eyebrow at her. "When you start using your business poker face on me, something's wrong - even if it's just that I've called right when you were hoping for a nap," he added. "What is it?"

[ [ ...You're far too perceptive sometimes, ] ] she sighed, relaxing. [ [ Are you coming home soon, brother? ] ]

"No, I'm not," he said apologetically. "That's actually what I was calling about... why?"

[ [ You **are** the heir, Quatre. Winner Enterprises needs you. ] ]

He snorted indelicately, getting a startled blink in return. "Winner Enterprises has you, Iria, and the rest of our sisters. It doesn't need a seventeen-year-old CEO who hasn't been involved in the business for over two years!"

[ [ Be that as it may, ] ] she said dryly, [ [ you are still the heir. ] ]

"Because I'm the only male," Quatre said, rolling his eyes. "Sharing a Y chromosome with our father did not miraculously give me the divine right to rule."

[ [ Try telling that to every single business contact we have on L4, brother, ] ] Iria said, voice completely flat, [ [ and all the non-family board members. **Please**. I've been pretending to pass on your decisions ever since Father died, but it's getting to the point where they won't take my word for it any more. You **need** to come home. ] ]

Quatre sat back in his chair, staring at the screen. "...You really mean that," he said finally. "Are you honestly telling me that they'll take an inexperienced teenager more seriously than you, the person who was Father's publicly acknowledged second-in-command for nearly **twenty years**?!"

[ [ Oh, they won't take you seriously, ] ] Iria told him, smiling bitterly. [ [ Several of our competitors are positively drooling at the thought of taking you on; but as long as you exist, they won't take **me** at all. ] ]

"They're insane."

[ [ They're **traditional**. They would be quite happy to deal with and even respect me if you didn't exist, but the moment a male heir comes of age all his female relatives lose their business acumen, ] ] she said scathingly. [ [ It's written in the Koran somewhere, I'm sure. ] ]

"My copy must be missing that page," he murmured, then shook his head. "Well. What if I signed my interest in the business over to you and then vanished?"

[ [ ...I beg your pardon? ] ]

"I was originally calling you to discuss coming back... or **not** coming back, to be precise," Quatre said calmly, leaning his chin on his folded hands. "You know what I've - we've - been doing for the last two years, Iria. So do quite a few other people, and the word is going to spread. Do you think I'd be left alone if I came home and took over from you?"

She cocked her head slightly to one side, considering. [ [ No, probably not. ] ]

"Definitely not," he agreed. "The Winner fortune and political power could shelter me from quite a bit, but that same fortune and power would make certain people wonder what someone with my background might **do** with them; and then there's my friends. I won't abandon them."

[ [ It wouldn't be at all in character for you, no, ] ] Iria said, showing her first genuine smile of the conversation. [ [ How is Trowa, by the way? ] ]

Quatre coughed, blushing slightly. "Very well, thank you. Well. We're planning to pull a rather extreme vanishing trick; possibly one that includes faking our deaths," he added, remembering the huge explosion that had accompanied Wufei's disappearance out of the world. "So. If I were missing, probably believed dead, and you had all the legal paperwork necessary to show that I had handed full control over Winner Enterprises back to you... would that work?"

[ [...Yes, ] ] she told him, almost visibly working her way through all the ramifications. [ [ Yes, that would work very well. Quatre... if you do this, you won't be able to stay in touch, will you? ] ]

"No," he told her sadly. "Not at all, but I really do think it's the only way we're going to be able to live anything close to a normal life." _In a different dimension,_ he added to himself. _Talk about taking extreme measures!_

[ [ I'll miss you, ] ] she said softly. [ [ We all will, but if you'll be happy, then... it sounds like the right thing to do. ] ]

"Excellent," he said, and she sat up straight as he smiled like a happy shark. "Now, let's discuss exactly what you're going to **pay** me for my share of the company, hmmmm?"

* * * * *

"We've gotta tell Trowa how well that contact of his turned out," Duo gloated, peering inside one of the white bags that filled the footwell in front of his seat. "That place was the **motherlode**."

"I'm surprised you didn't want to get more of the carvings," Heero said, glancing over. "Some of them were really impressive."

"Yeah, they were, but that sort of thing's hard to sell fast. The ones we got will make great presents if we ever need to not-quite-bribe someone rich and powerful, but we're mostly getting things we can sell if we need funds, right? Or even trade directly for goods without swapping them for cash first. Smaller, simpler things work better for that."

Heero shrugged, eyes back on the road. "You'd know better than me. I mostly used cash, Krugerrands, and electronic funds when I needed to buy something - or Doctor J bought it, and had Howard get it to me."

"Nice anonymous gems are less traceable if you're dealing with some of the shadier traders," Duo grinned. "Or mercenaries. Plus, you can carry them with you, don't need an ATM to cash them in, and the government can't stop you spending them by freezing your accounts. Study well, Grasshopper, and you too may reach financial enlightenment!"

"I bow to the wisdom of the master," Heero snickered. "At least I was already sufficiently enlightened to stand back and let you empty out half their display cases."

"Damn straight!"

"What I really want to know is how you got what looks like several kilos of loose gemstones and jewellery so cheaply. Did you talk them into a bulk discount, or did they just forget to add half of it up?" Heero asked, half-seriously. Duo looked at him quizzically.

"You really were standing back, weren't you? I bet you didn't hear half of what we were talking about, either."

The dark-haired pilot looked a little embarrassed. "I was, er, enjoying watching you," he confessed. "You seemed to be having fun."

"Aheh. I was," Duo said, then coughed. "Anyway. If you'd been listening, I bet you wouldn't have recognised half the names of the gems I bought."

"I'm not **that** oblivious!" Heero protested. "Just because I never used them as currency-"

"Bronzeite? Unakite? Dendritic quartz? Lodestone? Chrome diopside? Larimar? Labradorite? Maw-sit-sit?"

"-okay, is that last one even a real name, or did you make it up?"

"It's a rich green stone mottled with black, made up of a blend of chromeite and jadeite," Duo told him smugly.

"You win."

Licking one finger, Duo made an imaginary mark in midair. "One to me! Seriously though, I trawled a bunch of gemmology websites while Quatre and I were deciding the most cost-effective trade items to bring along," he admitted, relenting. "Five days ago I wouldn't have known half of those names either. The point is, they're all fairly cheap semi-precious stones, but because they're pretty and well cut they'll be worth more than diamonds and rubies in a society that can only polish cabochons."

"...Cabo-what?" Heero asked plaintively.

"Smooth oval stones without facets. Nice enough if that's all you have the tools to do, but they don't sparkle. -Unless they're opals. Opals sparkle no matter what shape they are," Duo added.

"That settles it," Heero told him, turning into the driveway of their safehouse and putting the car into park. "I'm going back to the shops I already visited, and taking you with me this time. I didn't know enough about what I was looking for, but with you along we'll be able to clean them out."

* * * * *

Holderman whistled, a low surprised tone instead of one of the signal whistles that could cut through a gale. "If we were out at sea, I think we'd be running for shelter about now. Is that anything we're going to need to worry about?"

"Shouldn't be," Kelov said, staring eastwards with a worried look on his face. "We'll be tied up at Derm well before the river rises and the docks are built in a sheltered inlet, but you're right; if we were any further away from a safe mooring I'd be damn worried." He paused, eyeing the lowering clouds, and went on in a quieter voice. "I've never seen a storm look quite like that."

To the east and north-east, the distant escarpment that was the western edge of the Wind Plain was invisible behind roiling black clouds and grey sheets of rain. They were moving oddly, a slow clockwise swirl that seemed perpetually on the verge of spreading out but never did.

"So that's not normal for the area?" Evark asked sharply.

"You get plenty of storms over in that area all right," the dwarf pilot told him. "When you get a damp wind blowing up over the edge of the Wind Plain it can form ribbons of cloud that run up the cliff like a waterfall going backwards, and if there's rain or snow anywhere you can guarantee some is going to fall there. That storm's closer, though, and normally I'd expect it to be moving away from us with the prevailing winds. It blew up out of nowhere and it's just sitting there, and frankly I don't like the look of it."

Evark and Holderman exchanged wary glances. "Aye, well, like you said we'll be snug at Derm before anything reaches us," Evark said eventually, giving Holderman a half-shrug and a grimace that said _we can't talk in front of him_ clearer than words.

"Aye," Kelov agreed, still worried. "This message you're delivering, is it to Baroness Ernos?"

"No."

"Someone in Derm?"

"I'm thinking you don't need to know," the halfling captain said calmly, looking up at the dwarf with one eyebrow raised. "Meaning no insult and all, but you're better off not getting any more mixed into this than you are already."

"It's just that if you need to keep travelling, that storm's going to ruin all the roads hereabout if it moves any closer," Kelov shrugged. "Not to mention that if you're heading to Moretz or Esgfalas," he went on, naming the nearest two human baronies, "you'll need to cross at least two fords, and they aren't going to be passable for days."

Evark grimaced again. "Let's just get to Derm first, shall we? Time enough to worry about moving on then."

True to his word, Kelov brought them in to the docks at Derm less than a candlemark later. As the _Wind Dancer_ coasted smoothly through the calm inlet, all sails furled and manoeuvring purely on momentum, her low hull and rakish lines drew curious glances from dockworkers and sailors alike. It was a fair bet, Holderman thought, snickering under his breath at the blatant double-take a man in a tiny rowboat had just done, that no Marfanger ship had ever been this far up the river before.

"You can tie up there," Kelov told Evark, pointing out a clear berth. "There's no dock fee; Baroness Ernos figures she makes enough in trade taxes without one, and it encourages return business."

"Not something we need to worry about right now," Evark muttered under his breath, turning the wheel with care. His crew were hanging fenders along the ship's side and coiling ropes ready to throw, leaving him free to give his full concentration to his task. The _Wind Dancer_ eased into place, barely kissing the wharf, and a couple of dockside loiterers nodded in admiration. Mooring lines were made fast in seconds, and two dockworkers slid out a slatted wooden ramp, sloping it steeply downwards to reach the low deck.

"Who's the jester?" Holderman asked almost absent-mindedly, jerking his chin towards a human male who was hurrying along the docks towards them. He was carrying a small bundle slung over one shoulder and dressed in a garish red and green robe, brown hair and white beard flowing loose down it as if trying to conceal the horrendous colour combination. "If that's the dockmaster, I've never seen one with worse taste in clothes."

"Someone from the Baron's College, I'd say," Kelov shrugged, scratching his beard. "They wear ceremonial robes that look a bit like that on special occasions, though I'll admit I've never seen 'em in those colours."

Evark looked up and blinked, briefly horrified. "...And I'll wager you'd be happy not to see 'em now," he said eventually, drawing a snicker from the dwarf.

"It's about time you got here!" the tall human snapped, reaching the top of the gangplank and shoving a dockworker out of his way. "Cast off or untie or whatever it is you call it, we need to get moving."

Evark and Holderman exchanged speaking glances. "I think you might have the wrong ship, whoever you might be," Holderman drawled, one hand resting on his swordhilt. "We're on a private charter right now, not up for hire."

The human shook his head, starting to pick his way down the plank. "This is the _Wind Dancer_, yes? It's not like we're going to have two halfling ships come into port on the same- awk!" He windmilled his arms, almost losing his balance as one foot skidded, and made it to the deck in an undignified scramble. The bundle's strap slid off his shoulder and it thumped to the deck at his feet, nearly tripping him.

"Aye, you're aboard _Wind Dancer_," Evark told him suspiciously. "And what makes you think you have business with us, whitebeard?"

Kelov looked around nervously as several crewmembers drifted casually towards the conversation, carrying belaying pins or loosening knives in their sheaths. The stranger didn't seem to notice, drawing himself up proudly and tugging his robes straight.

"I," he said portentously, "am a messenger of the Gods."

Evark's eyebrows shot up. "Oh aye, are you then? And which gods would that be?"

"Korthrala and Chemalka, of course," the man sniffed. "Didn't you see the storm? We need to head upstream immediately or it'll be wasted, and it shan't be **my** fault."

Opening his mouth to retort, Evark jerked as he felt the now-familiar twinge from his trident pendant. It was a little different this time, feeling somehow... embarrassed? "Even assuming I believe you," he said slowly, "I'm thinking I'd like a few more details before I set off up a shoaling river on your say-so. For starters, who **are** you?"

"Jothan Tarlnasa, chairman of the philosophy department at Baron's College," came the snappish answer. "You're on a mission from Korthrala to deliver a warning message to Hurgrum, yes?"

Kelov choked, wide-eyed. "**Hurgrum**?!"

Evark ignored that. "Aye," he nodded. "And where do you come in?"

Tarlnasa gave a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes. "The rivers between here and Hurgrum aren't normally navigable, so Korthrala asked Chemalka to help. She's caused a storm that will raise water levels in a couple of the tributary branches of the Upper Saram high enough for your ship to pass. They've sent me to guide you, **obviously**."

"Obvious once you actually explain, maybe," Evark snorted, eyeing the tall human with disfavour.

"Well, get moving then!"

Holderman looked sideways at his captain, who was starting to jut out his chin dangerously, and took one long step back and to the side to separate himself from the conversation.

"We'll do that all right, just as soon as you tell me where we're supposed to move to," Evark growled.

"Hurgrum, you blithering idiot!" Tarlnasa snapped, lifting his eyes heavenwards in exasperation. "That **is** where your message is needed, gods give me patience to deal with fools!"

"**Which river**?!"

The human blinked. "Oh. The northernmost channel until you pass Esgan, then south-east, eastern channel past Navahk, then the second north-pointing tributary. But I'll be on board to guide you, so-"

Evark looked at Kelov. "Got that?"

Kelov looked surprised. "Ah, yes?"

"Know the channels?"

"Yes, though I'll admit I haven't actually piloted a ship through those specific ones-"

"Willing to try?"

Kelov swallowed, stiffening his spine. "Yes."

Evark grinned, eyes glittering. "Good. You, whitebeard! Off my ship!"

Tarlnasa squawked, eyes bulging unattractively. "But- you need me! The Gods-"

"I need to know the safe channel. You've told me. Damned if I'll tolerate you on my decks any longer than I have to. Off, before I throw you off!"

The human backed up the gangplank as Evark advanced on him, then yelped again. "My luggage! I packed-"

Without pausing, Evark scooped the bundle up and hurled it at Tarlnasa, who caught it, wobbled dangerously, staggered sideways... and fell off the ramp, disappearing underneath the dock with a despairing cry and a loud splash.

"Cast off!" Evark bellowed, and the dockworkers tossed the mooring lines onto the deck and hauled up the gangplank. Evark nodded politely to them. "I'm thinking yon philosophy chairman would appreciate a rope," he said, straight-faced. "Or perhaps a boathook."

"Aye, we'll take care of that," one nodded back, eyes alight with curiosity. "Good sailing - and good luck!"

* * * * *

"Captain Yurgazh," Arsham sighed, cutting the other hradani off mid-sentence. "Do me a favour."

"...Yes?"

"Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you **want**."

Yurgazh's mouth snapped shut, and he stared fixedly for a moment, trying to judge Arsham's mood.

Prince Arsham Churnazhson - Arsham the Bastard, as he was often called by his father's toadies - was tall for a Navahkian hradani, seven feet tall and as broad in the shoulder as some Horse Stealers. He had light brown hair in a warrior's braid, oddly pale eyes that looked nearly yellow in some lights, and a near-permanent calm expression that had fooled a lot of other hradani into thinking the Rage had 'gone out of him'... until he proved otherwise.

"I want to bring someone- no," Yurgazh corrected himself. "No point getting her to talk to you if you want me to come right out and say what we want now."

"'We'?" Arsham asked, and Yurgazh winced.

"Can we leave that bit for later?"

"This is starting to sound like something you don't actually want to ask me, Captain," the prince said quietly. "Would you like to think again?"

"...I want to take you somewhere, to talk to someone," Yurgazh said carefully, meeting Arsham's eyes. "I give you my word that this isn't a trap of any sort, and that we honestly believe this is something you need to hear."

Arsham sat back in his chair, twirling the quill pen he'd been using to make careful marks on a map, and looked steadily at him. "Why can't you just tell me whatever it is here and now?"

"I'm not in charge, and I'm a lot less convincing than the- person who wants to talk to you."

"Why can't they come here?"

"It's complicated," Yurgazh said frankly, and Arsham laughed.

"I have to admit that sounds more interesting than all **this**," he said ruefully, waving at the piles of parchment on his table. "Never trust anyone who says you don't need to read to run an army," he sighed, and Yurgazh stiffened. The last time he'd heard a comment like that, it had been Churnazh saying it.

"So you'll come?"

"This isn't some plot by the old noble families, is it?"

"Definitely not."

"Do I bring a bodyguard?"

"Er... I'd rather you didn't," Yurgazh admitted, "but I'm not about to tell you you can't."

It was Arsham's turn to stare, ears cocked backwards in surprise; then he nodded sharply. "Fine. I'll take **you** as my bodyguard, how's that?"

"Um. Thank you?"

"Let's go, then, before somebody brings me some more damn work to do."

- - - - - -

Arsham walked beside Yurgazh through the main corridor of the underground temple, staring around him in well-concealed surprise. All the worshippers had been cleared out except for Akar and Mathel, as a precaution in case the prince didn't react well to finding out what exactly was going on, but it was clearly designed to hide a lot of people.

"How in all of Krahana's hells did you build this?" he asked. "This stonework is new, so it's not like it's been down here for years. Where'd you put all the stuff you dug out?"

Yurgazh shrugged. "I wasn't here to see it. I think a lot of it got used to re-gravel roads, though."

Arsham stopped short, staring at the carving above the wide double doors they were approaching. It was stylised, and the lack of colour made it harder to decipher, but it was the same rod-in-flames symbol Yurgazh had seen on Mathel's necklace. The prince's ears went flat.

"This is a **temple**," he hissed, rounding on Yurgazh with one hand clenched on his sword hilt. "You worship the Dark Gods?!"

"Only Krashnark," the captain told him, keeping his ears up and his hands away from his own sword with an effort. "The rest of 'em can stew in their own black juice as far as I'm concerned," he added emphatically. "Krashnark's different."

"Different how?! Damned if I'll-"

He cut himself off as a sudden sense of **presence** filled the temple, something deep and strong. "If you'll come in here so I don't have to yell at you," a calm voice called from the chamber ahead, "I'll explain."

"That would be Himself," Yurgazh said dryly, jerking one thumb in that direction. "They tell me you get used to it eventually, but I'm not so sure."

Slowly, eyes wide, Arsham edged along the corridor until he could see through the doorway. Krashnark was standing at the back of the huge chamber, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a sardonic look on his face. Beside him, Akar and Mathel were looking respectively embarrassed and exasperated.

"M'lord," Akar said tentatively, "sooner or later you're going to appear at someone like that and they're going to fall down in a fit."

"I don't do it to people who can't take it," Krashnark shrugged. "It's worked so far, hasn't it?"

Mathel shot the god an irritated look, then stepped forward and curtseyed slightly. "Welcome to the Temple of Krashnark, Prince Arsham," she said, a little curtly. "Please excuse Himself, he gets like this sometimes."

One of Krashnark's eyebrows shot up at that. "Why do I seem to be collecting followers who refuse to give me the respect due to my station?"

"Because we're the ones who don't fall down in fits in your presence," she snapped. "You're the one who told Akar you didn't want us grovelling, aren't you?"

"True," he admitted, shrugging again. "That gets annoying very quickly. Well, Prince Arsham? Are you willing to hear me out?"

Arsham's ears, that had been slowly inching upright during this exchange, snapped down flat again. "Do I have a choice?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes." Krashnark's dark eyes were perfectly sincere. "You may turn around and walk out of here at any moment, and I- we- will not bother you again. You might discover that you couldn't find your way back here," he added, "possibly disappointing Akar, who I think is just waiting for a reason to abandon this place, but we'd let you go and leave you alone. My word on it."

- - - - -

Behind Arsham's wary expression, he was thinking furiously. _He's not like anything I'd expect of a Dark god,_ he told himself, studying the faces of the other hradani present. _His followers talk back to him and he doesn't mind? Unless this is all an act,_ he added, natural suspicions coming to the fore. _They'd have to be damn good actors, of course, but then any high Dark worshipper would have to be to survive._

_And yet..._

He couldn't make himself believe it. He couldn't look at Krashnark, at the ten-foot-tall Dark God of War casually leaning on the wall and shedding crimson light through the chamber, chaffering lightly with his followers, and believe it was all a lie.

So if it wasn't a lie...

"All right," he said abruptly, walking forward. "I'm listening. So what does Krashnark Phrofro want with me?"

He might have imagined it, but he thought Krashnark winced slightly at the patronymic.

"There's war coming," the god said, and Arsham surprised himself by snorting.

"There always is," he said dryly, and Krashnark smiled thinly.

"This time will be different."

The priest - and priestess? She wasn't in robes, but she acted like she belonged - were looking up at the god, frowning slightly, and Arsham realised that they were waiting for an explanation, too.

"Aye, Bahnak of Hurgrum's going to lead all the Horse Stealers against us again just as soon as we give him a reason, and this time a bunch of Bloody Sword cities are like to join in on his side instead of ours. I don't see why that has you turning up to chat with me, though."

"As I told these three yesterday, Hurgrum isn't your only concern," Krashnark said, shaking his head. "There are other forces moving, and other wars to be fought soon, and Navahk can't even survive to face them unless the Prince of Navahk is very, very smart and very, very cautious. Do you think your father fits that description, Arsham?"

The god was serious now, straightening up, and there was nothing funny in his tone. Arsham swallowed.

"...No," he admitted, voice thin.

Krashnark nodded. "He doesn't. So. Do you think **you** fit that description... **Prince** Arsham?"

* * * * *

"Oh, there you are, Heero dear! How's the car?"

Heero stiffened, staying hunched over the engine of the pseudo-junker the pilots drove as part of their cover for a couple of breaths; then he straightened up, pushing hair out of his eyes, and nodded at the two elderly women who were beaming at him from the end of the driveway.

"Miss Immy. Miss Neppy. It's doing okay."

"That's nice," Miss Neppy said happily. "It certainly sounded better when we saw you heading off this morning. You were taking Duo to the hospital, weren't you?"

"Yes." He struggled with himself for a moment before producing something resembling a smile and summoning up his minimal reserves of 'small talk'. "His knee's healing nicely. The doctor says he can start physiotherapy now."

"Oh, how lovely! He'll be so happy about that, I'm sure."

Heero's smile widened, relaxing into a genuine expression. "He is."

"Well don't let us interrupt you dear, we can talk just as well without you stopping work," Miss Immy told him, flapping one hand at him. "It's so nice to see young men like you, willing to do something with your hands and make a proper job of it..."

The two old ladies continued their stream of chatter, trading the thread of their gossip back and forth as one put in a detail or reminded the other of a date, and Heero bent back to his task, making a vaguely affirmative noise whenever they seemed to be expecting a response.

"...though it's surprising the number of cars we've been having drive down the road today, considering it's a cul-de-sac," Immy said vaguely, fussing with the strap of her oversized handbag.

"I know! Really, I quite wondered if somebody was having a party, but none of them stopped, just drove up to the end of the street and then out again," Neppy nodded.

"Perhaps the party was somewhere nearby and they had bad directions to follow?"

"I suppose. Or faulty GPS units, you know there was that article in the paper recently."

"Yes, but would they all have the same fault? I saw half a dozen cars that I **know** don't belong here before tea, and I wasn't watching all the time," Immy objected.

Heero stiffened, hands tightening on his tools. "What sort of cars?" he asked cautiously, trying not to sound as if he cared about the answer.

"Oh, all medium-sized sedans, darkish colours, local plates," Neppy shrugged, waving one hand as if to brush the question away. "Nothing at all memorable."

_Surveillance cars,_ Heero thought automatically. _Something that doesn't stand out, something that could belong anywhere - except on a dead end street with a couple of nosy women who have all the residents' cars memorised, thank Quatre for picking this house-_

"Funny, though," Immy mused, sounding a little puzzled. "I could have sworn the same person drove down the street twice, a man with a very unfortunate set of sideburns that really didn't suit him, only it couldn't have been the same person after all because it was different cars. So that means it must have been **two** men with the same type of horrible sideburns, isn't that strange?"

Heero looked up at that, and for one split second he caught the two women looking straight at him, eyes sharp and calculating. Then Immy blinked and they both smiled, just two elderly ladies in hand-knitted cardigans sprinkled with cat hair, and he nearly thought he'd imagined it.

Only nearly. He knew better.

"Well, we won't keep you, dear, we can see you're nearly finished and will be wanting to get on with your day," Miss Neppy said cheerfully, ignoring the tools laid out all along the edge of the engine bay. "**So** nice to hear that Duo's knee is going well, do give him our love when you get the chance."

He nodded slowly, straightening up and wiping his hands on a rag. "I will. I might do that now, in fact."

Their smiles deepened a fraction, curling into a more knowing expression for just a moment before they smoothed out again. "What a good idea," Immy chirped. "You boys be good now, and look after each other!"

Heero's own smile returned, a little sardonic. "We always do."

- - - - - -

"We're under surveillance, or at least the area is," Heero announced tersely as the front door closed behind him. "I don't know if they've actually pinpointed us yet."

"Any idea who?" Duo asked, twisting around in his seat and picking up one crutch as if to get up immediately. "OZ? Government?"

Heero shook his head. "I didn't see them myself; the gossip ladies warned me. They send their love," he added, unable to stifle a smirk.

"Miss Immy and Miss Neppy **warned** you?" Quatre asked incredulously. "But-"

"They're just a couple of chatty old ladies?" Heero finished the sentence. "That's what I thought until now. They didn't come right out and say it, but they were very careful to give me all the details I needed to recognise a surveillance patrol being run on the street. I'd bet my beam cannon that they've worked out exactly who we are."

"Are you sure they're on our side?" Trowa asked. "Or could they be testing to see if we'll spook and run?"

Heero opened his mouth, closed his mouth, thought for a moment, then pointed at Duo and Quatre. "You two are the interpersonal experts," he shrugged. "Opinions?"

"Dude, I thought they were oblivious," Duo snorted. "I **like** them, but that doesn't necessarily mean dick."

Quatre shot him an annoyed look at that choice of words, then turned back to Heero. "They've never felt hostile. Curious and interested, of course, but... hm... benevolent? Sometimes they've felt worried, but not afraid; more like they were worried **for** us than **about** us. I put it down to them worrying about Duo's knee. They're on our side, I think. -Besides, even if they were some kind of covert intelligence agents they've been living here long enough that they'd have to be sleepers, and probably planted here before we were **born**."

"Right," Heero nodded. "So we're going to trust them and their info, at least for now. Plans?"

Duo grimaced. "If whoever it is haven't pinpointed us yet and we book it out of here, that'll just confirm we're the right targets. If they've already picked us out, though, there could be a catch team coming through the windows tonight."

"I don't know if I'd expect a catch team," Quatre said slowly, frowning. "This isn't likely to be an OZ operation; they're in the middle of disbanding, Lady Une isn't going to authorise anything of the sort, and a group of disgruntled vets coming after us for revenge would almost certainly take longer to get organised."

"Government, then," Trowa shrugged.

"Yes. Which means someone needs to call Relena on a secure line and tell her not to visit."

"That might be what the surveillance team is doing," Duo snickered. "Hoping they'll cruise past when there's a pink limo in the driveway pinpointing our location!"

"And that's also probably how they worked out what area to look in," Heero sighed.

"So we're sitting tight?" Trowa asked.

Heero glanced at each of the other pilots in turn, collecting nods and shrugs, and nodded. "But we'd better move up the timetable."


	41. Chapter 40

"Uh, guys? We have camouflage."

Heero twisted away from his laptop to blink at Duo. Quatre and Trowa had almost identical bewildered expressions as they looked up from their low-voiced discussion at the other end of the room.

"...Camouflage?"

"Seriously, come look," Duo said, beckoning from his post by the front window; the curtains were open a crack, letting him peer out through the sheers behind them without being seen from outside. "I think the gossip ladies decided to help out," he added, leaning back in his chair to let Quatre see past him.

"Oh!" Quatre stared for a moment, then snickered. "Yes, that should make our house look more like a family home and less like a hideout..."

Heero walked to the other side of the window and shifted the curtain half an inch with one finger. It was a beautiful day outdoors, with the sort of brilliant sun and crisp blue sky that you only get in early autumn; a day that was a positive invitation to get outside and enjoy the weather with friends.

Half a dozen children were apparently doing just that in the driveway. Ranging in age from approximately eight to eleven, they had a bucket of sidewalk chalk and were starting to sketch out drawings on the concrete; three seemed to be discussing something cooperative.

All six were chewing happily on enormous home-made cookies.

"You think the gossip ladies bribed them to play here?" Heero asked, changing angles to study the red-brick house across the street. Five cats were visible in the screened-in porch, sunning themselves in anatomically unlikely poses, and Miss Neppy was settled comfortably in a deck chair with a drink and a book.

"Considering that those are all members of the group of kids who normally hang around their place playing with the cats, I do indeed think that," Duo grinned. "It can't hurt, at least."

Miss Neppy didn't move, but something about her seemed to tense, alerting Heero a few seconds before a nondescript dark blue sedan came into view. It was moving slowly, almost kerb-crawling, and the driver - a man with, Heero was interested to note, possibly the most hideously manscaped sideburns he'd ever seen - was scanning each house as he passed. The car prowled out of view towards the end of the cul-de-sac, then reappeared a minute later and passed in the other direction.

"Either they haven't pinpointed our location yet, or that guy's really good at hiding which house he's actually interested in," Duo noted coolly.

"They haven't pinpointed us yet," Trowa said flatly, turning back towards his seat. "Anyone good enough to disguise their interest that well would have better surveillance technique than re-running the 'lost car' scenario multiple times a day, **and** would shave."

"Oh come on Tro, be fair!" Duo snickered. "The guy shaves! Very carefully, and with fifteen different shaping tools, but he shaves!"

"Then he should shave **more**. As in, all of it."

* * * * *

"'Ware snag to port!" the cabin boy screamed from the bow, backing up the verbal warning with broad hand gestures. The unnatural circling winds that were keeping Chemalka's storm in place were making the _Wind Dancer_'s rigging sing, strange moaning noises that wavered up and down the scale and occasionally harmonised into chords, and his high-pitched voice was better at cutting through than anyone else's. Evark had called the lookout down from the crow's nest even before they sailed into the sheeting rain, then posted him in the bow with Kelov, peering into the dimness ahead for hazards. The black clouds overhead had plunged the landscape into deep twilight, though by rights it was early afternoon.

The howling winds were driving the Marfanger ship forward under less than a quarter of its normal sail, making slow progress against the rushing water. The river had risen inch by inch as they'd approached the storm, until now they were navigating as much by Kelov's memory of landmarks and where the banks **should** be as by sight; the lowlands were flooding, and this section was like a moving lake with the river's normal channel marked out by two winding rows of half-submerged scrub willows.

"I hope that dwarf's memory is as good as he thinks it is," Holderman muttered, shielding his eyes from the rain as he glanced from side to side. The floating tree the boy had warned against spun in the eddies as it swept down _Wind Dancer_'s port side, barely missing the hull as Evark shifted the wheel in tiny increments, and whirled away into the darkness behind them.

"I hope his memory is **better** than he thinks it is," Evark grunted, shifting the wheel back. "Or were you missing the fact that he's not confident about this at all?"

"I was trying to ignore that bit," Holderman sighed. "Seeing as how he's only been over this part of the river twice, and so on."

"I guess you wouldn't like me to start talking about how we'll be fine because the gods are with us?"

"The gods were with that damned idiot in Derm, but I don't see you welcoming him on board for his company!"

"Ha!" Evark spat to one side, sodden moustache bristling. "It's his company I was objecting to, not the gods'; they're doing as well by us as they can, I think. The Lady of the Storm is giving us remarkably well-behaved winds, for one thing."

"Aye, she is that." Holderman squinted up into the rigging as the constant moaning changed pitch again, checking for any sign that something was about to give way for what felt like the thousandth time. The wind was strong enough to make him fear for the masts, but more importantly it was steady, blowing in one direction with only minor shifts in force and angle. Without that predictability, what they were trying - sailing up a shallow, poorly-mapped river in flood conditions, aboard a ship that normally measured its manoeuvring room in miles instead of yards - would have been impossible. As it was, it was 'only' fiendishly difficult.

"Makes a man wonder," Evark said, sounding almost absent-minded, most of his attention clearly on the ship rather than what he was saying.

"About what?"

"About whether the gods were stirring the pot even before we realised," the captain shrugged, breaking off to whistle a sharp command as one of the sail lines thrummed unpleasantly, straining. He relaxed fractionally as two crewmen loosened the over-tight rope, trimming the sail before anything gave way, and went on. "I'm not so sure any more that it was just chance that we were on the spot when Longlegs lit his signal fire. Any Marfanger ship would have done if all he needed was a rescue, but..." He frowned, shifting the wheel again in response to another signal from the watchers crouched in the bow.

"You've a point there," Holderman mused. "I can't think of more than three other captains who'd be willing to even try this, Marfangers or not, and I'd not wish to be on board with them if they did."

Evark snorted. "Aye, me neither! Not that I'm thinking I'm so all-fired wonderful that no other captain could manage this-"

Holderman made a rude noise, and white teeth flashed as Evark grinned at him.

"-but I wouldn't want to be here with a different ship, or a different crew. So, **did** Foam Beard nudge things to put us in the right place at the right time, or was it luck?"

- - - - - -

"Given that I didn't know I was going to need you there before it happened, I certainly didn't do any 'nudging'," Korthrala muttered, frowning at the scrying pool he was hunched over. Always more comfortable with watery imagery and focuses than the mirrors and windows his siblings used, he'd formed a large bowl full of seawater to watch the _Wind Dancer_ struggling upriver. "That doesn't mean nobody did, though... hmm."

_=*Norfram?*=_ he thought, flicking the inquiry out towards one of his younger brothers.

_=*Yes?*=_

_=*Are you poking around in Norfressa?*=_

A mental laugh shivered down the connection between him and the Lord of Chance. _=*No more than usual.*=_

_=*That isn't a 'no',*=_ Korthrala pointed out, grinning despite himself.

_=*I'm __**always**__ poking around in Norfressa, brother. You'll have to be a little more specific than that. Poking what, exactly?*=_

Korthrala opened the connection a little more, bringing a mental image of the situation he was watching up to where Norfram could 'see' it. _=*One of My captains just pointed out that it was very lucky he was in the right place at the right time to pick up someone who needed exactly the sort of help he could provide. __**I**__ didn't set that up; did you?*=_

Norfram's reply was a little slow in coming. _=*I... think I did, yes.*=_

_=*You 'think'?! What do you mean, you 'think' you did?! Either you did or you didn't!*=_

There was a shimmer in the air, and Norfram stepped through. The younger god looked rather like one of the gamblers who prayed to him, dressed in fine embroidered linen and lace, and he absentmindedly rubbed his clean-shaven chin as he bent to study the image in Korthrala's pool.

"I mean," he said aloud, "that there are several people and situations that I've influenced recently, without knowing what I'm influencing them towards." He turned his head, quirking a sardonic eyebrow at his brother. "I've been trying to give this captain of yours and his passenger good luck, but it's been a bit tricky since I didn't know what outcome would **be** good. I gather it worked out?"

"So far, but please don't stop yet... um. **Why**?!"

Norfram's mouth twitched, not quite a grimace or a smile. "Orfressa asked me to."

"Grandma?!"

"Korthrala, you **know** Father doesn't like you calling her that-"

"Why would Grandma be asking you to poke people?!"

"You make it sound so dirty," Norfram murmured, definitely smirking now. "How should I know Orfressa's motivations? You know how she is; we can't actually **talk** to her. She just let me know it was important." He shrugged, straightening up. "It started a bit over four five-days ago, nearly a month really, when she wanted me to give very **bad** luck to a priest of Sharna. Since then she's been nudging me practically every candlemark! I've been juggling chance like a mad jester, and believe me the amount of work I've had to do to balance it all out has not been trivial. That demon Torframos is watching, a whole city full of hradani up north, your captain and that other hradani, assorted humans and dwarves... there's a human down south in Purple Lord lands who's used up a village's worth of good luck in the last couple of days, and if I hadn't managed to offset some of it by giving it to him in the form of opportune **bad** luck he'd be paying for it in stubbed toes and lame horses for the rest of his life! She had me giving temporary good luck to a second priest of Sharna, too," he mused thoughtfully, "but it whiplashed on him not long afterwards. I didn't even have to tweak that part."

"...Yikes," was all Korthrala could think of to say.

"You're so eloquent, brother."

"Oh, shut up." Korthrala tugged at his bristling red-brown beard, mock-scowling at Norfram. "And you said you weren't poking around more than usual!"

"I'm not!" Norfram sniffed. "It's just that most of what I'm doing is concentrated in a few areas right now. Quite a number of my most ardent devotees are feeling rather neglected at the moment," he added sheepishly. "Most of what Orfressa's asked for has been a lot harder than my usual efforts, too."

"How so?"

Norfram formed a chair with a flick of thought and sat down, lounging elegantly with one fist propping up his chin. "Normally, I have a definite aim in mind when I shift chances," he sighed, leaning over to watch the scrying pool again. "Gamblers ask for the right fall of the dice or turn of a card, and pay for it by, say, being unlucky in love. Your little captain there has double good luck with the wind and waves, since he's getting a blessing from you as well as my finger in the pie."

The sea-god's scowl turned serious. "And how's he paying for it? He has to somehow, right?"

"He gets into more than his fair share of trouble, both ashore and afloat. Given that he **enjoys** said trouble, he doesn't think of it as bad luck." The younger god grinned, one lock of sandy brown hair falling over his forehead until he swept it back. "And since the good luck that had him in the right place to pick up your hradani also got him neck-deep into whatever mess Sharna's stirring up, that's balanced already - more than balanced, really - and I'm free to keep helping him out. He's not likely to hit any snags or lose a mast on this run."

"Good," Korthrala almost growled. "So why's it hard?"

"Because I didn't **know** he needed to meet up with your hradani, or that your hradani needed to meet the right ship!" Norfram explained in exasperated tones, throwing up his hands. "I thought your hradani just needed to find **a** ship, and not bleed to death in the meantime, so imagine my surprise when a whacking great dose of good luck made him pass out and miss two ships going the right way. I can't focus the chance when I don't know what I'm aiming it at, so I have to throw a bigger warhammer to make sure I hit the target, so to speak. That human down south was fairly easy, because I knew he needed to not get caught; he needed to not get caught a lot of times, and there were several good trackers in the area, so it took a lot of nudging, but it was focussed nudges. He was even going the right way, so I didn't have to do anything about that. On the other hand, when Orfressa wanted me to help that demon-!" He rolled his eyes. "I don't think even **she** knew what needed to happen! I pushed the probabilities around him as hard as I could towards 'good results', and in the end all that happened was that I affected his music twice!"

"**Music**? And that worked?"

"Yes, it did. You don't need to sound quite so incredulous, you know."

"Sorry."

Norfram relented, reaching out to thump his brother's shoulder. "Never mind, I was fairly incredulous myself when it happened. I could feel everything tip over towards... well, towards a better future, so I know it worked **somehow**, but damned if I know why it worked or what that better future involves."

"I'm sure we'll find out," Korthrala grumbled half-heartedly, hunching forward to stare at the _Wind Dancer_'s image again.

"Oh, we will," Norfram said wryly. "And given that not even Father knows what Orfressa is doing some of the time, here's hoping that we agree with her definition of what 'better' means, hey?"

- - - - - -

Brandark bit off a heartfelt curse as the deck shuddered under his makeshift pallet, bringing every one of his half-healed wounds to his attention. The _Wind Dancer_'s hull groaned and creaked, almost drowning out the eerie howl of the winds, and he swallowed another string of swear words as a frothing wave splashed up over the cabin's single porthole.

"Far be it from me to cast aspersions on the sanity of a man who's doing me an immense favour," he said, struggling to keep his voice light, "but your captain is **insane**."

Two of the wounded halflings sharing his sickroom laughed, sounding surprisingly unworried for people stuck on a ship that seemed to be in imminent danger of sinking. "Oh, he's sane enough," one told him cheerfully, bracing himself against the bunk above with his unbandaged leg. "He's just Evark Pitchallow."

"I'm sure that would make sense if I were from Marfang Island," Brandark muttered, grabbing at the bulkhead as the deck pitched and he started to slide sideways.

"He's the best," the cheerful halfling shrugged. "The best Marfanger captain, which means the best ship captain on all the seas... which means he needs to keep provin' it."

"He don't need to," the halfling in the bunk above him disagreed. "He just **wants** to."

"Comes to the same thing in the end, dunnit?"

"'S more fun if yer doin' it 'cause you want to." The top-bunk halfling leaned over to wink at Brandark, not seeming to care that one lurch of the ship in the wrong direction could catapult him out of his precarious perch. "An' see, we're the best Marfanger crew on the best Marfanger ship, so-"

"-So you're the best of the best, and you're proving it," Brandark sighed.

"So you've got nothin' to worry 'bout! Get some sleep or somethin', ain't nothin' gonna go wrong."

"**Sleep**?!" His voice cracked and he coughed, continuing at a lower volume. "Sleep? You seriously expect me to sleep through this?"

"You got somethin' better to do?"

Marshalling his wits for a suitably scathing retort, Brandark paused as a quiet sound that had been going almost unnoticed, submerged under the louder and more worrying noises made by the ship and the storm, finally penetrated his awareness. The third of the four injured halflings sharing the cabin with him, occupying the top bunk on the other wall, was **snoring**. Cocooned in blankets until the only part of him visible was a shock of near-white hair and two ivory horns, held secure by what looked like a small fishing net hooked across the front of his bunk, he was sound asleep.

"See?" the halfling Brandark was starting to think of as 'top-bunk' said, jerking his thumb in that direction. "Gurak's got the right idea."

"...I stand corrected," the hradani said, clinging desperately to a beam with his one good hand as the pallet started to slide again. "It's not just your captain. You're **all** insane."

Whatever reply the halflings might have made went unspoken as the ship shuddered again, harder this time. There was a long, low grinding noise from beneath them as its keel dragged across something, creaking rising to a crescendo as the hull flexed. The sleeping halfling - Gurak - had snapped upright revealing bandages across his forehead and one eye, one hand poised ready to unhook the netting across his bunk as he listened intently. The grinding was getting louder, Brandark's hand was starting to cramp as he held himself in place and he could feel the ship slow down, starting to tip to one side-

A sharp whistle cut through all the other sounds, and feet thumped across the deck overhead. Ropes creaked, there was a sound like a giant whip cracking as a sail flapped, and the _Wind Dancer_ jerked forward again, sliding over whatever was making the grinding noise and away.

"What in Krahana's deepest hells was **that**?!"

"A ford," Chihar said sourly from the doorway, eyes flicking from bunk to bunk and down to Brandark as he checked his patients. "All secure in here? Put your nets up, you morons!"

"Mmph," Gurak commented indistinctly, disappearing back into his nest of blankets. "Di' m'n a'ready..." His voice trailed off into renewed snores.

"Yes, well, good to see at least one of you has a functioning brain left even if he is the one who got hit in the head," Chihar snapped, bending to grasp the folded quilts forming Brandark's bed; the hradani suppressed a startled yelp as he tugged the pallet back into place in one smooth motion.

"I don't have a net to put up," he pointed out meekly.

"Yes you do, you just don't know about it." Chihar moved around and shoved again, driving the pallet against the wall, then yanked the outer edge up and produced a net seemingly out of nowhere. One edge fastened to small hooks countersunk in the floor, the other attached to similar hooks on the bulkhead, and Brandark found himself nearly as tightly cocooned as Gurak was. "Hm. That'll keep you out from underfoot, big 'un." The surgeon slid one hand through the mesh, gentle fingers contrasting with his brusque voice as he checked Brandark's temperature.

"How's things on deck?" 'top-bunk' asked, behind his own net now and apparently trying to look as if it had been there from the start.

"Oh, the Captain's having a **fine** old time," Chihar snorted, moving to check on the fourth halfling. The most badly hurt of the crew members injured in the battle with the cult ship, he'd been unconscious ever since, lying in the bunk underneath Gurak's. Instead of a net, Chihar had slotted planks into the bunk rails, converting it into something like a deep cradle; now, he leaned over the padded edge, reaching to check his patient's pulse as he kept talking. "We lost two sounding lines on snags looking for that Phrobus-cursed ford and the current's strong enough that they're not much use anyhow, so we're back to having the lookouts trying to see through rain so thick it's a vertical lake, but the Captain's grinning fit to catch flying fish in his teeth... huh." He stilled for a moment, then drew back, turning to go.

Brandark didn't realise that Chihar had drawn the top blanket up over the other halfling's face until the surgeon was nearly out the door.

"What was his name?" he asked quietly.

Chihar stopped without turning around, one hand on the doorjamb. "Vannar," he replied, voice just as soft.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Brandark blinked. "I... if I hadn't-"

"Vannar died quiet in his bunk, and he took at least three of those Sharna-kissing bastards out before they cut him down," Chihar interrupted, shooting a fierce glare back over his shoulder. "You don't get a much better death at sea; and he and Kaedir and Peross will be remembered. That's what matters. Don't waste your strength feeling sorry for **him**, you big lunk! Feel sorry for anyone else who gets in our way!"

Almost against his will, Brandark's mouth crooked up in a lopsided smile. "You know, I think you lot are going to get on just fine with the Horse Stealers. Can I watch?"

* * * * *

"I have to admit," Wufei said flatly, "that this is quite possibly the most boring journey I've been on in my life."

There was a sputter of laughter out of thin air, and he mock-scowled. "Well may you laugh! You aren't stuck in a small metal box underwater with only two telepathic connections for company!"

_=*It could be worse,*=_ Krashnark's rich voice said in the back of his mind, unsuccessfully suppressing laughter. _=*You could be stuck in a small metal box underwater with __**Vaijon**__ for company. He did volunteer, after all.*=_

"It would at least mean I had three people to talk to," Wufei pointed out.

_=*Until you killed him.*=_

"There is that." He wriggled in his seat, briefly wishing that it could be configured to allow him to lean back. Or lean sideways, or slouch, or take **any** position that wasn't rigidly upright with perfect posture!

_=*Surely you've been in situations before where you needed to... I believe 'lay low' is the term?*=_

"Of course, but there was always something I could **do**," Wufei sighed, trying not to sound like he was whining. "I could monitor enemy communications, plan missions, hack into OZ bank accounts-"

_=*'Hack'?*=_

"Steal money from the bad guys," he translated dryly.

_=*I thought we were talking about occasions where you had to remain hidden?*=_

Wufei opened his mouth, considered how to start, and snorted. "Ah. That's not an easy one to explain. It's... a form of theft that you can do from a distance? Rather like... er... sending a letter that convinces the bank that the money is yours, only faster."

_=*I'll take your word for it. I'm also a little surprised to find you condoning theft.*=_

"While I don't subscribe to the school of thought that says 'All's fair in love and war', there are a **few** things that aren't crimes if you're doing them to your enemy."

_=*Ah. Pillage.*=_

"Well... loot, certainly." Wufei smiled wryly. "Pillage tends to be taken from civilians."

_=*An important distinction.*=_ There was a slight pause. _=*Still bored?*=_

"**Yes.** And if you ask me that again, I'll start asking if we're there yet."

_=*A formidable threat,*=_ Krashnark snickered.

"I've had Duo do it to me, too, so I know all sorts of refinements to make it worse, including 'I need to pee', half a dozen versions of 'The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round', and 'Tie The Knot In Your Pyjamas'," Wufei informed him, stretching. As he settled back into his seat, he ran his hands back over his hair, smoothing it into place and then tugging at his ponytail to keep it taut in a thoughtless gesture he did dozens of times a day.

His hair tie snapped, dropping a swathe of fine strands over his face.

"Pfleh!" Spitting hair out of his mouth, he raked it out of his eyes with both hands and scowled. "Lovely. Well, now I have something to do," he grumbled, opening the nearest storage compartment and searching through it.

- - - - - -

Twenty minutes later...

"I must have **one** left **somewhere**!"

* * * * *

"Have we got the reinforcements onto the walls yet?" Arsham Churnazhson asked, shielding his eyes from the torrential rain as he stared up at the boiling clouds.

"Aye," the messenger nodded, squinting upwards himself. "Your Highness," he added in a hasty mumble, noticing the glares several army officers were sending his way.

"Never mind that," Arsham told him, waving the title off. "What about the squads in the streets?"

"There's been a bit more trouble there," the shorter hradani admitted, a little nervously. "They've been running up against people who've been taken by the Rage, and, well..."

"And what?" the prince asked impatiently, scowling at him. "They're losing the fights? Getting bogged down restraining them? What?"

"Falling into the Rage themselves, half the time," the messenger shrugged. "They're already worried, see. It doesn't take much to tip 'em over the edge."

"Can't blame 'em," one of the officers muttered, ears back and fists clenching as he stared upwards. There was a strained note to his voice that had the other hradani standing near him eyeing him warily.

"Doesn't mean we've got the time to waste by giving in ourselves," Arsham said firmly, reaching out to take his shoulder in a hard grip. He held it for a long, tense moment, then shook him. "You hear me, Ferak?"

The officer took a deep breath and looked away from the clouds, ears flicking partway up and back down again. "Aye, I hear you, but it'd be a lot easier if we could just find whatever Phrobus-cursed wizard or priest is **doing** that!"

There was a rumble of agreement from everyone present, almost a snarl, and the prince grinned nastily. "Wouldn't it just? Until we find out who's doing this and what their game is, though, we need to concentrate on keeping Navahk secure and the people calm - as calm as possible, at least," he amended wryly. "We won't be able to fight whoever's behind this if we've all been taken by the Rage and run howling into the wilds, hey?"

"I hear you," Ferak repeated, and Arsham released his shoulder with another, gentler shake.

"All right, then," he went on, glancing upwards one more time before determinedly turning his face away from the churning storm. His ears dipped momentarily as lightning flashed across the sky, but otherwise he refused to react. "We need the steadiest men we've got ready to move the moment there's any news-"

"Let's hope they're ready, then, because that looks like news on the way," another officer snorted, jerking his chin towards the other side of the square they were assembled in. A uniformed hradani had just come into view, riding a lathered horse, and was headed in their direction at a fast trot.

"Prince Arsham?" he called, standing in his stirrups as he approached.

"Here!" Arsham beckoned him over. "What's the word?"

"There's a ship on the river," the new messenger told him, gesturing vaguely northwards.

"In this weather?!" he couldn't help exclaiming, ears tilting to odd angles. The officer who'd first spotted the horseman coming scowled.

"A boat on the damned river? What makes you think that's worth the Prince's time, you-"

"Not a boat," the messenger interrupted. "A **ship**. Got to be at least a chain and a half long, two masts an' all! They're headed east, going upriver."

"Even so-"

It was Arsham's turn to interrupt, and the officer fell silent as his Prince's hand touched his arm. "That sounds like an ocean ship," he murmured. "Blue water. How in all of Krahana's hells did they get this far up the Saram? There's **fords**!"

"The river's flooding pretty bad," the messenger shrugged, raising his voice over another roll of thunder. "The ship's sailing where the channel usually is, but the water's up over a lot of farmland an' suchlike, so I guess the fords're drowned pretty deep. Without the storm they'd be stuck down at Derm," he added.

As one, all the hradani present looked up at the black clouds overhead.

"...Right," Arsham said grimly. "Somebody fetch my horse."

- - - - - -

"They're halflings!" someone said incredulously, and Arsham snorted, shielding his eyes against the rain as he peered at the distant ship. He and his officers had waded their horses out to a low hill that still stood clear of the floodwaters, but were still far enough away from the slow-moving vessel to make him wish somebody had thought to bring a spyglass along.

"They are that," he agreed. "Makes sense, really; I can't think of anyone other than Marfang Island halflings who'd be brave enough to try what they're doing. I can think of a few who'd be **stupid** enough to try it," he added thoughtfully, "but they wouldn't succeed."

"They're still **halflings**," the other hradani grumbled mutinously, and he snorted again.

"Say that after you've tried raiding 'em," he suggested, smiling for a moment. "I hear it'll get you a sore hide and not much loot, if any."

"Think the storm is their doing?" someone else asked dubiously.

"...I don't know," Arsham admitted after a moment's thought. "If it's not them calling it, then it's one hell of a coincidence that there's an unnatural storm and a flood right when they want to head upriver, but... they're Marfangers, and from what **else** I hear, they hate wizards and dark sorcery nearly as much as we hradani do."

"That don't stop some of our people from messing with what they ought not to," Ferak said, voice low and grim. "It wouldn't surprise me too much to find that some Marfangers are fool enough to play with fire, too."

"You have a point," Arsham admitted, mouth twisting bitterly, and reined his horse around. "Let's get back to higher ground before the water comes up any further and cuts us off."

"What do we do about them?" another officer asked, jerking his head back towards the river.

"They're not stopping, and damned if we can reach 'em through all that, so there's not much we **can** do, is there? Set extra sentries and keep them supplied with horses in case they were just the start of something bigger. In the meantime, I have to get back and report to my father," Arsham finished grimly, wiping rainwater off his face. _If I can find him. And then I need to go talk to someone else, too..._

* * * * *

"You know, Relena's right," Duo said out of nowhere.

"About what?" Heero asked absently, not looking up from the fifteenth revision of his mass/volume calculations.

"It is pretty damn weird that we're accepting all this so easily," the long-haired pilot shrugged, grinning at him across the table. "I mean, think about it! Gods? Magic? We're planning a fucking traumatic evacuation from our own **universe**, for crying out loud, and the biggest reaction any of us had to the idea was basically 'Huh. Okay'," he snickered.

Heero blinked, thinking about that, and then laughed. "I think my reaction also involved objecting to the idea you might get kidnapped, but otherwise you have a point," he grinned back. "I certainly didn't waste time arguing that it was impossible."

"See? I think I know why, though. We never came out of Mission Mode."

"Mission Mode?" Heero asked, pushing his laptop away and resting his chin on one hand, eyeing Duo curiously. "And what exactly is Mission Mode?"

"Thinking like you, actually," Duo grinned. "Seriously! If you're given a mission, what do you do?"

"...Is this a trick question?"

"No. Humour me."

"I do it," Heero shrugged.

"Exactly!" Duo waved one hand at the Japanese pilot. "You don't waste time considering whether you **should** do it, or wondering if there is actually a mission there to be done, or anything like that; you just work out **how**, and then you go do it. You treat a lot of stuff in everyday life like that, too. Remember the bar fridge?" He snickered. "The rest of us do the same thing, but only with missions, not with anything else. Anyway, when Wufei disappeared, we all treated that like a mission - 'find him and get him back' - and when the war ended, we still had that 'mission' to take care of, so we stayed in that mindset."

"But then the Doctors worked out what had happened," Heero objected.

"Yeah, but we didn't get any closure, did we? So, when we found out the rest of the details-"

"Gods, and magic, and a friendly alternate universe who 'needs' you," he supplied obligingly.

"-yeah, that, we were still in Mission Mode, so we accepted the scenario as presented. No time wasted going 'wait, what the **fuck**?!', we jumped straight to 'how do we complete this mission?' I.e., getting ourselves over there to join Wufei," Duo concluded triumphantly, flinging his hands out to the sides.

"And thus we find ourselves here," Trowa commented dryly from the doorway, "watching Sideburns Man drive up and down the street in assorted cars and calculating how many spare parts we can fit in a shipping container, instead of working out how to live as civilians. I can't say I really mind."

"Sideburns Dude is back? **Again**?" Duo sighed, flopping dramatically onto the table.

"Persistent, isn't he?"

Heero frowned. "It's getting to the point where I think we **should** move. Even if they haven't pinpointed us yet, and I'm not so sure about that any more, having him out there six times a day is a serious hindrance. There's still a few things we need to organise in person, and if we can't leave the house-"

"We could ask the gossip ladies to do some of it," Quatre suggested tentatively, poking his head around Trowa's shoulder.

"I meant things like getting the Gundams ready!"

"**I** meant things like buying coffee and tea in bulk," the blond pilot countered. "Actually, not even things like that, **exactly** that. We can't guarantee they'll have coffee where we're going, and do you honestly want to deal with Duo and me going through caffeine withdrawal?"

"I don't want to deal with **myself** going through caffeine withdrawal," Trowa murmured thoughtfully.

"The Doctors and the Manguanacs can retrieve the Gundams from our last safe house and finish the repairs," Quatre pointed out. "Howard is sorting out the spare parts for us and can deliver them directly to wherever the Doctors pick as a good, er, launch point. We've sorted out most of the money and trade goods, and my sisters are finishing the conversion of my personal assets to portable forms of wealth, which, again, the Manguanacs can pick up. All **we** need to organise in person is our own personal gear, and mine **is** going to include coffee. About a ton of it," he finished determinedly.

"I'm with him," Duo declared, sitting up. "Instant or beans, Q?"

"Both. Unroasted beans, too, because they keep a lot longer."

"Uh. Quatre, dude, not to sound mean or anything, but... if you take green coffee, someone's gonna have to roast it, and I know **I** can't..."

"I may not be able to cook," Quatre sniffed, "but coffee is different. I **can** roast coffee. In a pan, too," he elaborated, "not anything that needs electricity, before you ask."

Trowa raised his hand. "I can roast coffee over a campfire," he said quietly, smiling at Quatre. "Between us I think we'll be fine."

"I'm outvoted, aren't I?" Heero said dryly.

"Three to one!" Duo grinned.

"I concede. Still, are the gossip ladies going to be able to get that much unroasted coffee?"

"Miss Neppy is a coffee addict," Trowa reminded him. "Even if she doesn't roast her own, she probably knows where to buy it."

"True, but I should probably ask my sisters to get the beans," Quatre mused. "They can buy in bulk and hide it as a family purchase, or... I'm fairly sure Winner Enterprises owns **something** that could plausibly need a lot of coffee on short notice. The tea, too. We can ask the gossip ladies to get the instant."

"I repeat my question with a slight change. Are the gossip ladies going to be able to get that much instant coffee?" Heero asked. "And are the gossip ladies going to be able to **transport** that much instant coffee?"

"You haven't seen their second car," Duo snickered. "Actually, sorry, that's badly phrased. You haven't seen their second form of transport. The Beast is **not** a car."

"...'The Beast'?" Heero said faintly. "The gossip ladies own a vehicle called 'The Beast'?"

"If it had bigger tyres, it'd be a monster truck," Trowa snorted. "As it is, it's 'only' a very large 4WD. They don't drive it often, but they're very proud of it; it's everyone else who calls it The Beast."

"I withdraw my objections," he sighed. "Okay. Fine. The gossip ladies can get, and transport, sufficient instant coffee to satisfy everyone's caffeine addictions. Got it. Just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Can **we** transport that much instant coffee?!"

Quatre thought for a moment, then shrugged. "If we borrow The Beast, sure."

- - - - - -

When Heero and Quatre went to see them later that day, after Sideburns Man had cruised slowly up and down the cul-de-sac once more and was safely out of the way for at least half an hour, both Miss Immy and Miss Neppy were delighted to help.

"Of course we'll get the coffee for you, dears," Miss Neppy said, beaming at them. "And of course you can borrow the big car! It'll do it good to be driven."

"Thank you," Quatre told her sincerely, patting one of the cats cruising around his ankles. "We do appreciate it."

"What are neighbours for?" she asked vaguely, clearly expecting no answer.

"Is there anything else you'd like us to pick up for you while we're shopping?" Miss Immy inquired, looking at Heero. "Tea? Food? First aid supplies?"

He opened his mouth to refuse, then found himself pausing to think. "...Rechargeable batteries?" he replied tentatively. "Duo was saying something about not having enough after all..."

"Certainly! What sizes, and how many?"

By the time they got out of the comfortable red-brick house (after checking, again, for Sideburns Man), the ladies had asked enough shrewd questions and made enough suggestions that their shopping list had expanded to cover a page and a half in Miss Immy's cloth-covered notebook.

"I didn't realise we still needed that much stuff," Heero said, a little dazed.

"They must be **really** good at packing for holidays," Quatre agreed fervently.

"I was thinking interrogations, but you're right."

* * * * *

Hurgrum's docks were a ramshackle affair by Marfang Island standards, clearly never expected to serve anything larger than a dinghy and mostly submerged under the risen waters, but they'd been built by Horse Stealer hradani - and ones under the command of Prince Bahnak, at that, a man who was determined to drag his people up out of barbarism and into civilisation. Accordingly, they were solidly built, with massive timbers sunk deep in the riverbed, and had suffered no more damage than a loosened plank or two despite having been struck by at least one large tree during the flood.

The numerous halflings (and one dwarf) aboard the _Wind Dancer_ had an excellent view of their condition, because the rain cut off as if a giant watering can had finally emptied itself as they drew up alongside the logs sticking up out of the water. The wind dropped to barely a breeze, the dark clouds that had spun unnaturally overhead for most of a day and a night began to disperse, and wan shafts of mid-morning sunlight broke through to illuminate the soggy landscape.

"Well," Evark said cynically, stripping water out of his moustache, "**that** won't make 'em think we're odd at all."

"Oh, aye, and here I was thinking that we were going to blend right in," Holderman said mildly. "There's a disappointment for you."

Evark gave him a fulminating look, then turned to Kelov, who was sagging against the rail, utterly exhausted by lack of sleep and unrelenting strain. "Well done!" he said more cheerfully, reaching up to slap the dwarf on the shoulder. "Damn well done, and I'll be happy to have you on my ship any time. If we ever end up in this end of the world again, that is," he added. "You never know."

"I'd be happier knowing we were going to be able to get **out** of this end of the world," Holderman muttered, eyeing the logs that the _Wind Dancer_'s crew had tied up to. Sticking up out of the floodwaters at the end of the short dock, each of them had a sort of tide-mark of mud and bits of debris on their upstream side, showing the highest point the water had risen to. There was already a small but visible gap between the bottom edge of the tide-marks and the water surface as it began to ebb.

"...I would too," Evark admitted, following Holderman's gaze. "I'm thinking the Lady of Storms won't be as eager to raise a flood for the rescue of one small ship as she was for an important message. Still, we'll work out what we can when we can and see what happens, eh?"

"I'd be **very** happy if I was sure we were going to survive the next candlemark," Kelov said abruptly, lifting his head to stare down the length of the submerged dock.

Holderman whistled, long and low. "...An' we've been calling our passenger big," he said eventually, eyeing the massive forms gathering at the water's edge.

"Well, the Horse Stealers have this tendency to overdo everything," a strained voice said from behind them, struggling to sound nonchalant. "Including growing."

Brandark was leaning heavily on a pair of rough crutches, pale and sweating, right leg dragging limply behind him. Chihar was standing nearby, watching him with an expression of frustration on his face.

"I thought," Evark said carefully, "that Chihar was going to organise a stretcher? In fact, I'm pretty sure we talked about this, and there wasn't anything in there about you walking on your own, or crutches. Crutches that look like they started out as two of my boathooks, for that matter!"

"Oh, aye, they did, because the oars turned out to not be long enough," Chihar said sarcastically. "And we did have that talk about a stretcher, but somebody here's too stubborn for his own good, and it ain't me."

"Brandark, lad-"

"Captain Pitchallow," Brandark cut in, "thank you. Really. But it's going to be bad enough when a Bloody Sword hradani walks into a pack of Horse Stealers and tells their prince and clan lord that one of his sons is dead. Killed, might I add, by a bunch of hradani from Navahk, which is where **I'm** from."

Evark absent-mindedly lifted a hand to twirl the end of his moustache, then wiped more water out of it instead as it squelched. "I'm not seeing how this ties in with you walking instead of accepting a ride on a stretcher?"

The hradani's smile was completely humourless, ears twitching as if they wanted to lay flat against his head. "You've heard the saying, 'I'm not taking this lying down'? Well, Captain, I'm not **doing** this lying down. There's at least half a chance they're going to kill me, you know-"

_And at least half of you is hoping they do,_ Evark thought grimly, watching Brandark's face.

"-and I'd rather die on my feet," he finished, ruined left hand fumbling for a better grip on his crutch. "Shall we?"

- - - - - -

Hurgrum was bigger than Brandark had expected.

He'd seen far larger towns in human and dwarven lands, of course, since setting out in Bahzell's company; by the standards of the Empire of the Axe or the Empire of the Spear Hurgrum was small, and provincial, and woefully uncivilised. Still, coming back to hradani lands had led Brandark to expect a typical hradani city-state, and he'd based those expectations on Navahk.

Compared to Navahk, Hurgrum was a marvel. It had an actual sewer system and smelled more like woodsmoke than shit, for one thing; its buildings were mostly stone and brick, well-built and warm, not rickety wooden things that would burn down in winter when - not if - somebody's lantern broke or their stove tipped over, for another. Most obvious, though, was the way the inhabitants stood and looked curiously at their little party of strangers, warily but unafraid, and even called questions to their escort.

Hradani **women** called questions to their escort, to hradani guardsmen showing the symbols of the city's Prince, instead of ducking their heads and hiding indoors to evade notice... something that would never happen in Navahk. Not now, not under Churnazh, and Brandark felt his ears flatten in shame.

_My home is rotten to the core, now, and all I can do is hope that Bahnak leaves my father alive when he burns the rot out,_ he thought sadly, struggling up the last hill towards the fortress-like 'palace'. His leg burned, throbbing like the bone was on fire, and he hid a wince. _Looks like I won't live to see it, one way or another... and I'm glad, and isn't that just a coward's way to think of it?_

"Now that's a dark and dreary building," Evark commented, and Brandark looked down at him, glad of the distraction. The tiny halfling captain had changed into his most flamboyant clothes before leaving the ship, and was dressed rather like Brandark at his best - which meant he was far better dressed than Brandark **now**, what with several months of travel and abandoned luggage behind the hradani.

"It's a defensible building," he explained, keeping his voice steady with an effort as his foot dragged over the cobblestones. "The Horse Stealers are closer to the Wind Plain and the Sothoii than any other hradani, and Hurgrum is near one of the easiest routes down from their territory. Raids occasionally make it this far."

"The Sothoii raid **you**?" Evark asked incredulously, and one of their listening escorts snorted.

"Everybody raids hradani," he rumbled, deep voice sarcastic. "They're thinking as how we don't have any right to live, y'see, much less near **their** precious homes and families, where we might take it into our heads to go massacring for no good reason at all, at all. So they raid us to make a point, like, and burn our homes and crops and massacre **our** families. An' then we've got nowt to eat, so we raid 'em back an' eat their horses," he said wryly, "and they say 'See? Savages, y' can't trust 'em,' and it all starts again."

Evark looked him up and down, twirling his now-dry and freshly waxed moustache. "Would that be why you're called 'Horse Stealers', then? I was thinking it was a bit odd, seeing as how you're bigger than any horse I've ever seen could carry. Don't the Sothoii have cows and suchlike for you to steal instead?"

Several of their escorts grinned, broad, nasty grins full of strong white teeth. "Oh, aye, they do, but there's more good eating on a horse than on a sheep, y'see, and tastier than a cow if you're used to it... and the Sothoii cosset their horses like babies, so it **hurts** more."

"Not to mention that 'Cow Stealers' just doesn't have the same ring to it," Brandark said through gritted teeth, setting off again.

- - - - - -

The throne room was full of grim-faced hradani, fully armed and armoured, and as Brandark made his way slowly across the floor towards the dais at the other end he hoped, privately, that Evark and his crewmen would make it out even if things turned ugly and Brandark didn't. He wasn't in the habit of praying - very few hradani were - but surely Korthrala cared about Evark? He'd seen the trident pendant the little captain-dedicate wore, and Evark had said that Korthrala liked **him**, even, so perhaps he would be heard if he tried?

_He said Chesmirsa likes me too,_ he thought, a little bitterly, _but did she ever grant me a spark from her lamp? A touch of grace? A trace of true bardic talent, so that I could write a song better than doggerel - hells, so that I could write a proper song for Bahzell... no. The gods don't care. And if I was going to try prayer,_ he added to himself, lifting his eyes to meet those of the grey-haired hradani on the throne, _I should have started earlier..._

Bahnak Karathson, Prince of Hurgrum and Lord of Clan Iron Axe, leaned forwards, staring down at Brandark with his ears pressed flat to his head. "Well then," he said quietly, voice even deeper than Bahzell's had been. "You'd be Brandark? Son of Brandark, of Navahk and the Raven Talon clan?"

"Yes," Brandark nodded, standing as straight as he could. He didn't bother with honorifics; Prince Churnazh might demand every bow and title he could squeeze out of his subjects, but Bahnak was as far different as you could get and still be the same race. "I'd say 'formerly' of Navahk and the Raven Talons, though, for it's very surprised I'd be to find out Churnazh wants me back."

"Oh, he wants you back all right!" Bahnak barked a laugh, sitting back. "Not in a friendly sort of way, if you get me, and not as a member of his clan, but he wants you back indeed; alive if possible, though he'll take dead and nail your ears to the wall of his throne room if that's all he can get, or so I'm told. That said, I take your meaning, and I won't be calling you Raven Talon or Navahkian if you'd rather not."

Brandark winced at that, and Bahnak's expression sharpened. "Thinking twice about disavowing them, are you?"

"I never did or said any such thing," Brandark snapped back, glaring. Armed hradani shifted, muttering, but Bahnak waved them down and Brandark ignored them. "It's not the clan or the city I've a problem with, it's the clan lord and the prince, not that he deserves either title! I'm a Bloody Sword and a Raven Talon and a Navahkian and I want to be **proud** of it, but so long as he's sitting on that throne I can't be! So you feel free to call me Raven Talon if you like, and I'll answer to it happily enough," he finished, pushing some of the sudden anger back and forcing his ears up a bit, "but I'm thinking Churnazh'll not appreciate it."

"Oh, aye, he wouldn't at that, would he?" There was the faintest suspicion of a twinkle in Bahnak's eye for a moment. "Well then, Brandark, son of Brandark, of Navahk and the Raven Talons, it's time we were putting aside what Black Churnazh would and wouldn't appreciate, for I'm thinking that his likes and dislikes weren't what you came all this way to be speaking to me about."

"...No," Brandark agreed, swallowing hard against a suddenly dry mouth. "It wasn't."

"Aye. And so I'm asking you to tell me true, lad." Bahnak leaned forward again, and the room was deathly silent. "What has happened to my son?"


	42. Chapter 41

"What has happened to my son?"

Brandark worked his jaw to drive a little moisture back into his mouth, then took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to meet Bahnak's. His voice was low but clear, falling automatically into formal patterns as he spoke, and his heart ached as he heard the resemblance to the slightly old-fashioned dialect Bahzell had always been most comfortable with. "It's sorry I am to have to tell you this, Prince Bahnak, and it grieves my heart no less than yours... but my friend Prince Bahzell, your son, is dead."

It seemed as if every hradani in the room drew in breath at once, and Evark Pitchallow shifted his weight next to Brandark, glancing around warily. The whole conversation had been held in the hradani language, not the Spearman they'd been using on the voyage or the Axeman their escort up the hill had spoken, and he couldn't understand a word beyond the occasional name - but a deaf man could have seen that now was a dangerous moment, as expressions darkened and hands closed on weapon hilts all around the room.

They'd known already, of course, or at least suspected what he'd come to tell... but knowing what must have happened and actually being **told** were two different things. They'd had hope until he opened his mouth and crushed it, and Brandark flinched away from the sudden pain in Bahnak's eyes.

"Well." The older hradani's voice was rough, and he scrubbed briefly at his face with one hand before composing himself again. "I thank you for the news, though I won't deny I'd rather you brought better word."

"I wish I did," Brandark choked out, feeling his own eyes sting with threatening tears. "I-"

"I'm wondering what a damn Bloody Sword thinks he's going to gain here," a deep voice rumbled, and a barrel-chested hradani pushed forward to the front of the crowd. He was short for a Horse Stealer, not quite seven feet tall, but far bulkier than even they usually ran to. His ears were flat as he glared hotly at Brandark, and his hand was clamped tight to his swordhilt. "Coming in to tell us one of our own is dead, when for all we know he stuck the knife in himself!"

"Gharnal-" Bahnak started, and the younger hradani bared his teeth at his Prince.

"I have a right!" he snarled. "Bahzell was my foster-brother!"

"And you're dreaming if you think that gives you more of a right to avenge him than his own father!" Bahnak bellowed, starting up out of his throne, fists clenched. "I fostered you when your father was killed, I-"

"By Navahkians!" Gharnal roared back. "By Raven Talons!"

"-raised you to use your head, same as my own sons, not to challenge the one and only messenger we've got to tell us what happened, damn you for a Rage-blinded fool!"

"And who's to say he'll tell us anything close to the truth?!"

"And how are we to find out if you don't let him speak?!"

Another hradani, a few inches taller than Gharnal and just as broad, stepped forward to lay what was probably meant to be a calming hand on the shorter hradani's shoulder, and Gharnal snapped. Ears pinned back flat to his head, he jerked free and ripped his sword out of its sheath, voice scaling up into a high, wavering howl as he lunged at Brandark-

-and fell flat on his face at the Bloody Sword's feet as the nearest halfling curled into a ball and rolled into his legs, tripping him. Holderman stepped forward and kicked one flailing arm, hitting the wrist and sending his sword skittering loose across the flagstones, and Evark delivered a precise two-handed blow to the back of his head as he scrambled to rise. Gharnal collapsed back to the floor, barely conscious, eyes wide and dazed but no longer holding the blank fury of the Rage.

Brandark hadn't moved. None of the halflings had drawn a weapon, though swords and axes were half-drawn all around the room, and Evark sniffed, straightened his cuffs, and carefully twirled his waxed moustache back into order before turning back to Bahnak. The hand not grooming his whiskers unobtrusively slipped a slightly less than fist-sized lump of lead back into his belt pouch - something that might have started out as part of a load of ballast, exactly the right size and shape to weight a halfling's hand for a punch solid enough to fell a hradani.

"I didn't bring Longshanks all the way here to get him killed," he said in clear Axeman, chin jutting out imperiously as he stared up at the massively larger hradani. "This one got off lightly, but if there's a next time we'll be using steel, if it's all the same to you."

Not all the watching hradani could understand, but a ripple of amusement went around the room as those who could speak Axeman translated. The tension broke, half-hidden grins flashing white as weapons were settled back into place. Bahnak eyed Evark for a moment, breathing hard, then nodded and sat back.

"Aye, I'm thinking that's fair enough," he agreed in the same language. The quiet laughter started up again, and he pounded one fist on the arm of his throne. "And I'm thinking that anyone who's fool enough to take that as a joke deserves to find out how wrong he is!" he half-shouted, glaring around until silence fell again. "I'll not be demanding blood price for anyone who lifts a hand against these men, Bloody Sword or Marfanger, while they're under **my** roof and **my** protection! Which they are! You, Hurthang, get Gharnal a drink and sit on him until he cools his head! Pour some water on him and check his skull while you're at it. You who were laughing, you saw a lone halfling knock the Rage out of him with one blow and you still think they're to be **laughed** at?!"

Once Gharnal had been hauled off to the side by calmer friends, Bahnak grunted approval and nodded towards Brandark. "Well, then. Somebody get the lad a chair. And don't you be trying to tell me you don't need it!" he added, cutting off any objection before Brandark could do more than open his mouth. "We've waited long enough to hear your tale, and I'll not have it cut short by your wounds. By the look of you, a chair's less than I should be offering, at that."

"What's he saying now?" Holderman asked under his breath, jabbing one elbow into the thigh of their closest escort.

"Himself's after telling your friend to sit down before he falls over," the hradani muttered back, interpreting Bahnak's intent more than his words, and Chihar snorted.

"I hope the damn rock-headed fool will listen to your prince, because it's certain sure he's never listened to me! And he says you lot are stubborn!"

"Aye, well, we are," their massive escort agreed, grinning down at the tiny ship's surgeon. The top of Chihar's head didn't even reach the level of his hip, curved ivory horns and all, but there was nothing in the halfling's expression to indicate that he felt outmatched. "It's a thing all hradani share, but y'might say we Horse Stealers have an extra helping."

"To go with your extra helpings of everything else?" Holderman suggested, looking the bulk of him up and down.

"If you two are **quite** done distracting the audience?" Evark said dryly, and they hushed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had started as a whim.

Thinking about it later, Brandark couldn't honestly put a better face on it. He'd gone after Bahzell on impulse. Oh, certainly it was the right thing to do; he didn't fit in at Churnazh's court, to put it mildly, and although his father's status as the most respected (and well-armed) of the remaining 'old' lords offered him a certain protection, it was only a matter of time before he wrote the wrong song, slandered the wrong courtier, or cut too close to the bone in something aimed not-quite-subtly-enough at Churnazh himself. Sooner or later, Brandark's razor tongue and temper would combine to make him no longer an acceptable annoyance, and his father and brothers would suffer along with him. He **needed** to leave to keep himself and his family safe.

Making friends with a prince of Hurgrum - Navahk's bitter enemies, who'd recently trounced the Bloody Sword city and their allies on the battlefield with embarrassing speed despite being outnumbered five to one - didn't help. Leaving with said prince, after Bahzell had caught the crown prince of Navahk in the act of raping and trying to murder a servant girl and broken his hostage bond by beating the rapist nearly to death, hadn't exactly been the best way to stay safe, either. Brandark had managed a hasty cover-up, 'stealing' several of his father's best horses, and the old man had taken the hint and 'disinherited' him, which at least kept Churnazh from doing anything too obvious in revenge. Judging by what little he'd heard since, his relatives had kept their heads down well enough, and from the outside it probably looked like he'd planned it all from the start.

He hadn't, though. He never explained, even to Bahzell, and he was fairly sure the enormous Horse Stealer prince hadn't worked it out.

Bahzell was his only friend. It was as simple as that.

He'd had other friends, of course, but their number had dwindled quickly after Churnazh took the throne in a coup that was messy even by hradani standards. Those who couldn't keep their objections to the Black Prince's reign quiet died; those who took the safer route and supported their new ruler drifted away. None managed to walk the tightrope of opposition and pseudo-bardic immunity with him. He'd been alone and angry for years, composing more and more venomous barbs to plant in Churnazh's hide, knowing he was coming closer and closer to the edge but not caring enough to stop.

Then an immense, uncultured hradani who spoke with a yokelish accent, wore rough homespun, and stared in bewilderment at Brandark's lace cuffs and embroidered jerkins, had come right out and flatly asked him why he did it. He'd listened, and understood... probably more than Brandark had been able to put into words. He'd also told him that he was a bloody fool, and the laugh it had startled out of Brandark was the first genuine amusement he'd felt in years. Their friendship had developed quickly from there, and it hadn't been long before Brandark felt he could trust the Horse Stealer with anything.

When Bahzell had knocked out half of Harnak's teeth and put a dent in his head before escaping Navahk, taking the girl the crown prince had raped and an elderly slave woman with him, Brandark's first thought had been _Damn you, Bahzell, why couldn't you take me too?!_

The second thought, following hard on the heels of the first, sent him after Bahzell without even a moment of indecision. If Bahzell hadn't thought to take him - probably out of misplaced concern for the half-bard Bloody Sword, who could have told him that Churnazh hated him more than enough even without the extra provocation - then Brandark would take himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bahzell had sent Tala and Farmah off to Hurgrum to live under his father's protection, but that wasn't an option for him and Brandark. Whether Harnak lived or died, Churnazh was certain to declare that Bahzell had broken his hostage bond and his life was forfeit. If he was living openly in Hurgrum and his father refused to hand him over to be executed, there would be war, and many city-states that would otherwise ally with Hurgrum would come in on Navahk's side. Although another war between Hurgrum and Navahk was inevitable as long as Black Churnazh held the throne, that didn't mean that Prince Bahnak wanted it to happen just yet or under those conditions.

They'd needed to get out of Churnazh's reach, which in practice meant leaving the northern hradani lands completely... but hradani weren't welcome in human lands. Some town sergeants were polite, willing to admit that two stray hradani hadn't done anything wrong - yet - but even they indicated that Bahzell and Brandark needed to move along before something happened. Before the town bully challenged one of them; before less-friendly guards tried force instead of persuasion; before the mayor or a group of 'concerned citizens' ordered them to take a harder line.

Things had improved, slightly, when they'd reached the Duchy of Esgan and hired on as caravan guards with a dwarven merchant that Brandark's father had occasionally dealt with. Clan Harkanath had a policy of not rejecting trade just because it came from someone who was a different size or shape, and their employment practices were similarly broad-minded. Once they were wearing Kilthandahknarthas's livery, few people from outside his organisation would risk offending him by insulting his employees... but that didn't mean everyone **inside** his organisation was happy with the situation. Things turned sour after a bandit attack that the other guards were only too happy to blame on 'traitors' in their midst, and although Kilthan regretted letting them go, it was that or see half of his human guards walk away. Bahzell and Brandark found themselves on their own again.

And then there had been the assassins.

The first attack had come in the elven capital Saramfal after they'd worked their way further west and south with other, smaller caravans, getting little pay and less respect. The two hradani had nearly been arrested, despite their protests that the half-dozen men and dwarves had attacked them on no provocation; taken by surprise, they'd fallen into the Rage and defended their lives a little **too** well, leaving pieces of their opponents strewn across an alleyway and the gutters running with blood. The accidental discovery of a scarlet scorpion tattooed on one body's shoulderblade led to a closer search, finding similar tattoos or pendants on all six, proving their identity as Sharna's dog brothers. The Trade Quarter guards quickly declared Bahzell and Brandark innocent of any wrong, and equally quickly evicted them from the city, to take their trouble with them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I'm after thinking it has to be Harnak," Bahzell muttered, glaring back at the soaring white walls of Saramfal with a frustrated expression and both ears at half-cock. "Him or Churnazh himself. As long as I'm alive, I'm a scold and an embarrassment to them both."

"An embarrassment, perhaps," Brandark scoffed, straightening his cuffs fastidiously before starting to rearrange their pack horse's load. The guards had hustled them out of town with barely enough time to grab all their possessions, let alone pack neatly, and he frowned as he carefully rescued his balalaika from underneath another bundle. "I prefer to think of myself as the scold."

"Aye, well, there's merit in that thought," Bahzell said mildly, still preoccupied with his thoughts. "Being as how you're forever after writing tunes that stick in a man's mind while the words stab him in the back."

"Is that a reference to the song I've been writing about your heroic exploits? Because I was just thinking of a new verse-"

"You'd best not be giving me a reason to drop a saddle on that little fiddle of yours, accidental done a-purpose, like."

"That's hardly an appropriate response to a song in honour of your towering nobility," Brandark sniffed. "Besides, I **have** to finish it now."

The taller hradani turned to eye him warily. "...And how is it that you've come to that idea?"

"Two reasons. First, the more the full story of what happened between you and Harnak gets spread around, the less good killing us will do them. Damage already done, so to speak."

Bahzell scratched his chin thoughtfully, ears shifting back and forth as he mulled that over. "A man could argue that it'll have the opposite effect," he pointed out. "The more it spreads, the more reason they have to want to wipe out both the man doing the spreading and the man the tale is about, d'you see, relying on our deaths to make the story old news and not such an interesting tale to tell."

Brandark considered his point for a moment, then nodded. "True. Still, the more we call their attention onto us, the less likely they are to go after Farmah and Tala," he said grimly. "Safe as they might be against normal attack in Hurgrum, it's another matter if the bastards are hiring dog brothers. Our deaths might make the story fade, but if we're alive and well and retelling the truth, and the **women** die, whether from an obvious cause or a mysterious fall or the like, tongues will wag and fingers will point. If we tiptoe around quietly and let things calm down, Harnak and his father are likely to think that a little subtle assassination of two such inconvenient witnesses might go unnoticed."

"I'm not liking your logic at all, at all," Bahzell growled, ears flattening again.

"Oh? And where do you think it goes wrong?"

"I didn't say I thought it was **wrong**, little man. I'd like it better if I did." He sighed heavily, then glanced back at his friend, almost against his will. "And what was your second reason after being?

"I've thought of a name for the song! I'll call it _The Lay of Bahzell Bloody-hand_, seeing as how you seem to skin your knuckles every time you get into a righteous fight. What do you think of that?" Brandark grinned.

"I think it's reason enough to kill you myself!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They'd kept moving south after that, at first only because it was vaguely away from Navahk, then with greater purpose as incident after incident made it plain that nobody was inclined to let a couple of 'filthy, murdering' hradani pass by without comment or objection. They couldn't stay long in human-dominated countries, but equally couldn't go back; Horse Stealer lands were closed to them, as were all of the Bloody Sword territories, since even Bloody Sword princes who weren't directly allied with Churnazh would be likely to turn them over out of solidarity. The Broken Bone hradani lived too close to the others, close enough for their presence to be a direct taunt and insult to Harnak and his sire, close enough for Churnazh to threaten with reprisal if they weren't handed over to his 'justice'.

The Wild Wash, though... now there was a possibility. They lived almost as far south as you could go without falling into the sea, as far away from Churnazh's reach as a hradani could get and still be among kin. Far enough away that although a little news could and did flow back and forth, providing a way for two fugitives to keep their story alive - keep Tala and Farmah alive by ensuring that their deaths would be seen as suspicious, no matter how good the cover-up - the **law** didn't cross over.

They could have headed for the coast and bought passage on a ship with the last of their dwindling funds, or tried to work their way as they'd done before, as guards or even unskilled labour, but the attack in Saramfal had been only the first of many. Towns gave the assassins cover, contained innocents who could be caught up in the violence, and were guarded by men who reacted similarly to the Saramfal Trade Quarter's patrollers, too eager to blame the obvious scapegoats. After the fifth attack, they escaped arrest (and probably execution) only because the owner of the tavern they'd been eating in recognised the dog brothers for what they were and hated them more than he feared hradani, speaking up on their behalf and insisting on their innocence.

They'd ended up on the road outside town, packs strewn messily around their feet, banished yet again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Here we go again," Brandark sighed, surveying their scattered possessions gloomily. "At least the bartender insisted on helping us collect our gear, hey?"

Bahzell kicked at a stone, breath hissing angrily through his nose as he glared back towards the town gates - closed now, though they probably hadn't been shut in years if the rust on the hinges and the horrendous screeching noise they'd made as they were swung into place was any evidence. One of the helmeted heads peering down at them from the walkway on top of the wall ducked down behind the parapet to avoid his gaze.

"Enough," he growled, voice a deep and ominous rumble. "Enough, and more than enough!"

"Enough what?" Brandark asked carefully, surveying his friend over the pack horse's back as he tightened its girth. He didn't like the dark glitter in Bahzell's eyes, but the Horse Stealer seemed to have himself under control.

"I've had enough of all - all **this**," Bahzell replied, gesturing comprehensively at the town, the surrounding farms, possibly even the darkening twilight sky above. "Enough of being scorned. Enough of being looked at as though I'm some strange mix of worm and poisonous snake. Enough of being driven out by men who blame us for others' actions. Enough of being driven out by men who acknowledge we've done nowt that's wrong!" he finished, half-shouting that last sentence towards the gate. Two more helmeted silhouettes flinched, retreating downwards, and he turned away with a frustrated snarl and spat into the dust of the road. "Enough of bringing others into a fight that's nowt of theirs, too," he added, voice almost too low to be heard.

"I have to admit," Brandark said in a carefully mild voice, "I did feel a certain qualm after Talamar told the guard captain exactly what that little dart was. How many people did it ricochet past after it missed you, I wonder?"

"Too many," Bahzell said grimly. "Children and women, too, in that crowd."

Brandark snorted. "Come to see the 'tame hradani', most of them," he pointed out, grinning wryly. "Guilty of nothing worse than curiosity, even so."

Bahzell stooped to pick up their scattered packs, stuffing loose articles back and securing flaps as he helped Brandark re-order their gear. "Aye, and I'm not minded to bring danger to any more such."

"...You're going to suggest we head off cross-country, aren't you," Brandark said glumly, more a statement than a question. "Avoid towns. Sleep rough."

"And have you any better plans, Longnose?" Bahzell quirked one eyebrow at him, mood visibly improving as he settled on a course of action.

"No," Brandark sighed. "I wish I did. I'm a city boy, Bahzell, you know that!"

"Aye, so you've been telling me all along! You Bloody Swords have gone soft, lad!" Bahzell clapped him heartily on one shoulder, staggering him slightly. "Besides, it's not as if I'm inviting you to take a stroll up on the Wind Plain, tiptoeing past the Sothoii and their coursers!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Brandark's voice was hoarse, roughened by overuse and emotion, as he came near the end of his tale. The watching Horse Stealers had stopped talking among themselves long ago, leaning forward to listen intently, and an old hradani with a harp case slung on his back was silently mouthing key phrases and names as he memorised the story, fingers twitching as if he was already trying out chords, putting it to music.

"For a while, it seemed we'd made the right choice," Brandark said, looking up at Bahnak as if he'd only now remembered he had an audience. "Either the dog brothers had been called off, or they couldn't find us after we left the roads. We spent as much time circling around to avoid people as we did moving forward, at first, but then the towns thinned out and we could go for days without seeing any sign of civilisation. Once we reached the Shipwood, it looked like we were free and clear; we just had to evade the Purple Lords' patrols a little longer, and most of their attention is on the coast. Bahzell knew more than enough about dodging notice, and by then he'd taught me the basics."

He paused, swallowing hard, and looked down at his hands for a long moment. No-one else moved or spoke as they waited for him to continue, though Chihar shot a worried look at his right leg before returning to his careful study of his patient's pale face. There was an ominous dark stain beginning to seep through the rough fabric of Brandark's trousers.

When Brandark looked up again, his eyes were dark with memory. "That was when Harnak found us."

"**Harnak**?!"

It wasn't just Bahnak who'd asked the startled question. All around the room, hradani shifted and looked at each other, echoing the name, until Bahnak impatiently waved them down to silence.

"Harnak chased the two of you all the way down south to the **Shipwood**?" the prince asked incredulously. "We knew he'd left Navahk, but all the rumours said he'd just gone to ground somewhere nearby. Keeping his head down until people forgot the story and the shame, maybe, though it seemed a fool's idea. His brother - his next younger brother Chalghaz, that is, not the Bastard or Chalak Tallow Brain - has been taking the opportunity to expand his own power among the Guard and his father's courtiers, and if Harnak stays gone much longer he'll come back to find himself no longer the heir. That is," he went on slowly, eyeing the bitter smile spreading over Brandark's face, "if Harnak's coming home again at all, at all?"

"Oh, no," the Bloody Sword drawled, eyes glittering. "Chalghaz Churnazhson can feel secure - well, as secure as any man can feel with Chalak as a brother, though his plots are as idiotic as they are enthusiastic. His **dear** brother Harnak is dead, too, I'm glad to say."

The sound that filled the room was something between a hiss and a growl, pulled from dozens of throats as ears flattened and teeth bared, and Evark put one hand to his belt pouch before he recognised the satisfaction in it.

"Go on," Bahnak said, deep voice grim but carrying a trace of that same satisfaction.

Brandark hesitated for a moment. "Harnak... knew where we were before we had any sign of him," he said, choosing his words carefully. "We heard them coming. Most of them were in the Rage, howling, and I think that's all that gave us a chance, because they were fighting hard but not smart. They'd worn their horses out and gotten separated, with some falling behind and others riding ahead, so they came at us two and three at a time instead of all at once. We could fight two or three at once, for a while at least."

"And Harnak?"

"Harnak wasn't in the Rage," Brandark began, then broke off as his voice cracked. He coughed, clearing his throat, and looked up at Bahzell's father with pain-filled eyes.

"Lord Prince, please don't blame all of Navahk for Harnak and his kin," he begged, voice cracking again. "Don't- don't think we're all like them. I swear on my soul, what I have to tell you now is truth, but most Navahkians, most Raven Talons, most Bloody Swords would react the same as you and yours. For all I know, Black Churnazh himself would damn his son's name if he were here to hear this. This is Harnak's crime, and I beg you not to take vengeance on my people for it!

"He wasn't in the Rage. He was howling as loud as his bodyguards, but he was howling Sharna's name, and his sword was burning with green fire."

The faint murmur that had continued since those assembled heard of Harnak's death cut off into an abrupt, ringing silence.

"...Brandark, son of Brandark," Bahnak said slowly into the hush. "You know what it is you're accusing this man of?"

"I know," Brandark replied hoarsely.

"Be you sure of this? By your words, the man - your own city's crown prince, whether you acknowledge him as worthy or no - is dead and cannot speak in his own defence. Be you **sure**?!"

"I saw the Scorpion riding him." Brandark's hands were shaking, and he gripped the armrest of the oversized chair he'd been given to sit in. "I heard the name from his own lips. I **felt** it, like something rancid brushing up against me in the dark, and I wanted to run or be sick or- I don't know. It was **foul**," he said, shuddering at the memory, "and I am sure of what I say. I swear it. Harnak was a willing servant of Sharna Phrofro, and carried the god's sword when he came to hunt your son down."

There was another long, silent pause before Bahnak spoke again, face grim. "And was it Harnak who killed him?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harnak had reached them first, driving his staggering horse on until the poor beast was coughing bloody foam. It broke through the last scant fringe of undergrowth into the clearing where Bahzell and Brandark had made camp, and he spurred it viciously, sending it lunging towards Bahzell in an attempt to ride the larger hradani down. His sword dripped green fire like burning oil, spattering across Bahzell's shoulder as the Horse Stealer leapt aside and parried.

Brandark gagged as a wisp of the green light clinging to Harnak like greasy smoke flicked across his face, leaving him with a taste like rotten meat on the back of his tongue. He hesitated for a moment, torn between the urge to run and the desire to help his friend, and lost the chance to choose as the first of Harnak's bodyguards crashed into view. He soon found himself driven to the other side of the clearing, fighting off three enemies at once, unable to follow Bahzell's fight except in snatched glances.

His opponents were in the Rage, striking with enhanced strength and barely noticing injuries that would normally have them out of the fight, but paradoxically that was what saved him. They fought with no consideration for each other, no teamwork, getting in each other's way and ignoring openings that would have required subtlety to exploit. One lunged at Brandark, missed, and stabbed his own ally; they turned on each other, leaving him able to finish off the third barely in time to set himself to parry a strike from a newcomer. The Rage was pulling at him, too, a black tide waiting to suck him down, rising in response to his enemies' snarls and the sickening taint of Sharna's power.

_If I give in I'll die._ He backpedalled frantically past the campfire as another of Harnak's bodyguards charged him from the side, turning so that the newcomer couldn't slip behind him. _I have to be able to think, have to be able to fight smart - there's too many to face without my wits about me-_

Something crunched and twanged underfoot, and he looked down in horror as he realised he'd stamped on the bag holding his balalaika. _Oh, no-!_

He paid for that moment's distraction with the tip of his right ear, pain blooming as the sword skimmed past his head, and forgot the instrument in the desperate fight to stay alive.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"The next thing I knew, Harnak was down and Bahzell was charging in from the side to save my neck," Brandark told Bahnak, reaching up to rub at his cropped ear. "The fire on his sword and the feel of Sharna died with him, blown out like a candle, and it seemed like the rest of Harnak's men were stunned for a moment; that bought us time to put our backs against a tree. I think some of them just ran, then. I'm not sure if he brought his whole personal guard with him, but there weren't enough bodies afterwards to be all of them if he did."

He looked down at his hands, the whole right hand and the crippled left, missing the last two fingers and with raw scarring across the palm; the tendons were ruined, leaving his two remaining fingers stiffly extended, only the thumb still usable. "It looked like we were going to make it," he said softly, almost to himself. "It really did. There was only four of them left. Then... I fumbled a parry, and got this," he went on, holding up the maimed hand. "The next stroke took me in the leg, and I went down. And Bahzell..."

A tear ran down his cheek, dripping onto the growing stain on his trouser leg. "Bahzell saved me. He lunged across and blocked the swords coming down, took the arm off one man and stabbed the second through the heart. But that left him wide open, and the others- they-"

He was weeping openly now. "They stabbed him. Right through." His good hand pressed against his chest, low on the left side, then to the right of centre. "Then they ran. I suppose they thought we were both done for, if not dead already. And he died... he died under my hands. I tried, tried to bandage the wounds, but it was no good. He told me-" Brandark looked up at Bahnak. "He told me to get here. Tell you what had happened. Tell you Harnak was dead, so Churnazh wouldn't have reason to keep after Farmah and Tala. Tell you about that sword he was carrying, for though I stand by what I said about his sins being his own, there's no way he was the only one walking that path, and you need to know. And he wanted me to tell you to make sure-" His voice cracked again, and he wiped uselessly at the tears on his face. "To make sure he didn't die for nothing."

- - - - - -

Bahnak settled back into his throne - nothing more than a large wooden chair, really - and rubbed his own stinging eyes for a moment before clearing his throat. "It's thanking you I am, Lord Brandark, for bringing us word of my son," he said, ignoring the faint huskiness in his own voice. "And I thank you, too, for bringing him this long way," he went on, shifting into Axeman and nodding to the halfling captain. "I'm wishful to see you properly rewarded, and I'm thinking there's a lot of things you can be telling me about just how you got here, so I'd take it kindly if you'd stop a while, Captain- ah, Pitchallow, was it?"

One of the captain's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he bowed flamboyantly, one hand smoothing his moustache in what was already a familiar motion. "Delighted, Your Highness," he said breezily. "I'm looking forward to making your acquaintance." Behind his shoulder, his second-in-command rolled his eyes and muttered something about trade deals.

Before Bahnak could go on, one of the few halflings not sporting facial hair of any kind pushed forwards, glaring as though the prince had personally offended him somehow. "That's all very well and good, but if you want this lad around much longer you'll cut this short now and get him to a bed," he snapped, jerking one thumb towards Brandark. "And call whatever healers you have here! I've done what I can, barring things he won't listen to on account of being the stubbornest wood-headed lout I've ever had the misfortune of doctoring, but he needs someone who knows how to treat hradani and he needs **rest**."

Bahnak could feel his left ear slanting backwards and twitching quizzically, but he kept his face straight and nodded again. "Aye, I'm thinking you have the right of it," he said gravely.

"I'm all right," Brandark muttered, wiping his face on his sleeve one more time and then grabbing for his crutches. His face paled as he levered himself up out of the chair, and he swayed dangerously, but the moment passed and he collected himself, half-bowing awkwardly.

"Off with you, and never mind the formalities," Bahnak said, cutting him off before he could speak again. "We've guest rooms aplenty, Captain Pitchallow, so you and yours are welcome to stay here or aboard your ship as you please. I'll be speaking to you both again when you've had a chance to rest."

The halflings bowed again, accepting the clear dismissal, and he watched silently until they were gone, still flanking the wounded Bloody Sword and keeping to his halting pace.

"Jahnkah."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

Bahnak waved one hand at his elderly chamberlain, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the other. "I'll have word to send to the various embassies and so on, once I've had a chance to meet with Marglyth and the rest of the clan council. See to it that the scribes are ready to copy it, and call up messengers... and see that nobody gives them the word before then. There'll be rumours, of course, but I want the true word out there first."

Jahnkah shifted the cut-down halberd he used instead of a more traditional chamberlain's staff and eyed the room full of armed warriors with a jaundiced expression. "Begging your pardon, but I'll not be able to hold this lot for long."

"Can you give us half a candlemark? I'm not thinking we'll need long."

The old man looked sideways at him, and smiled grimly. "Aye, I can do that."

"I thank you," Bahnak said punctiliously, then rose from his chair and walked to the side of the room. A large decorated screen there served the dual purpose of hiding several chairs from the rest of the room and shielding them from drafts, and his wife stood up from her place next to the fire and walked into his arms.

* * * * *

"Ms. Dorlian-Peacecraft? You have a visitor."

Relena looked up from her paperwork and blinked at her secretary, a little confused. "My goodness. Is it eleven already?"

"Ah, no, miss. It's Lady Une. She doesn't have an appointment, but she said it's important, so-"

"Of course, of course! Send her in!" Relena shuffled her papers together and slid them back into their folder, looking up as Lady Une appeared in the doorway. "Lady Une, it's good to see you again. How are the preparations to start up the Preventers going?"

"Quite well, Minister, thank you." Une walked up to Relena's desk and shook hands stiffly, sitting down in the nearest visitor's chair and pulling a datapad out of her attaché case. "I appreciate you being willing to see me without an appointment."

"I trust you not to ask without good reason." She smiled, folding her hands on her blotter. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," Une said, a little slowly, fingers stroking the deactivated datapad in her lap. "The countries and territories the Preventers are going to be operating in have vastly different regulations and licensing requirements for the weapons and equipment we anticipate using. We're working on getting all the necessary authorisations, and of course as the system moves towards unification the various legislations will be unified as well, but in the meantime it occurred to me that it would be useful - indeed, necessary - to have some sort of 'hot pursuit' clause in the Preventers' charter."

Relena tilted her head slightly to one side, thinking that through. "So that if a Preventers agent who is licensed to, say, operate a mobile suit in one jurisdiction doesn't have to let a criminal escape if they cross a border into a jurisdiction where she isn't licensed?"

"Exactly."

"Well, that certainly sounds useful," Relena agreed. _And it also sounds like something that you would normally put into your weekly report, instead of requesting a face-to-face meeting without any notice. Why are you here?_ she thought, keeping the pleasant smile on her face but letting the question show in her eyes. Une met her gaze, and the corner of her mouth quirked up slightly.

"I have a rough draft of the clause here; I was hoping you could take a moment to glance over it and let me know if you think it's missing anything," she said, clicking the datapad's display on and holding it out.

"Of course," Relena murmured, taking the datapad and glancing at the screen.

[YOUR OFFICE IS BUGGED. I believe it to be audio surveillance only but am not certain. Your computer network has also been compromised.]

Relena stiffened for a moment, long practice holding her expression steady and stifling the exclamation in her throat. She blinked, glanced up at Une - watching her blank-faced - and looked back at the datapad as she scrolled down.

[Elements within the conservative faction have been attempting to locate the Gundam pilots, intending to conscript or suborn them for political and military advantage. They believe you know where they are, and are investigating your recent purchases etc.]

"The wording of this paragraph is a little ambiguous, but that's something that can be cleaned up easily enough. The basic framework you're trying to establish is clear," Relena murmured, keeping up the act for the benefit of whoever was listening. _How __**dare**__ they!_ she seethed internally. _Can't they just leave the poor boys alone?! Oh, Milliardo, you were right..._

[I have emplaced security teams to prevent any attempt to kidnap or coerce other known associates and relatives of the pilots. If you have a COMPLETELY secure channel with which to contact them, I recommend you warn them and then break contact.]

"My experience leans towards writing regulations, not legislation," Une told her, watching closely. "I'm afraid it shows. Do you think you have time to help with this? I don't want to impose."

Relena nodded, deleting the text file as she looked up. "Oh, I don't think there'll be any problem. If you leave this with me, I should have it taken care of soon. Do you have a deadline?"

Une glanced at the datapad and smiled as she saw the 'Secure Deletion Complete' message on the screen. "As I said, I don't wish to impose, but the rest of the charter is nearly ready for the first approvals, so..."

"As soon as possible?" Relena smiled. "I should be able to send you my edits this afternoon."

"That would be excellent." Une stood again, passing her a small memory card in exchange for the datapad. "There's a copy on here, as well as links and documents regarding the more problematic legislations we're dealing with, in case some background is necessary."

"I appreciate it," Relena said, sliding the memory card into her computer and opening the first document. She wasn't surprised to see the clause they'd been discussing as cover pop up on her screen; Une would never use an alibi that couldn't be confirmed. A minute later, after exchanging the usual goodbyes, Une left without looking back.

Relena worked on the clause for half an hour, reading the background documentation and tweaking the wording into something that should slide by most of the delegates who'd need to approve it without causing alarm, then closed the document and turned back to the paperwork she'd been reading before. She welcomed her eleven o'clock appointment on time, flattering and persuading until the stiff-backed elderly woman melted and agreed to support one particular committee in exchange for some concessions, and all the while she felt as if something was fizzing behind her breastbone.

_Have I taken enough time to avoid anyone drawing a connection between Une's visit and what I'm about to do next?_ she wondered, walking her visitor out and exchanging social pleasantries with a calm smile. _Or have I taken too much time? Is the warning going to reach them soon enough? I'm sure Lady Une wouldn't consider what I'm about to do a 'secure' channel, but she wouldn't have come to me if she didn't trust my judgement..._

_I'm not sure __**I**__ trust my judgement. I've never met these people. I've only heard Duo and Quatre talk about them._

_I don't think I have any other choice, though._

"Catriona, could you send Pargan up?" she asked aloud, smiling at her personal secretary as she turned away from the door. "I have an errand I'd like him to take care of for me."

When Pargan arrived a couple of minutes later, Relena was just finishing a note, written on her personal stationery.

"You sent for me, Miss Relena?"

"Yes, Pargan, thank you," she said. Her voice seemed abruptly too loud in her own ears, strained, and her hand shook a little as she signed the note and folded it into an envelope. "One of the research staff is very ill-" (True, a piece of bad luck that had been providentially timed) "-and I've been meaning to send her flowers, but I won't have time to go choose them myself. Would you please select a nice arrangement and have them delivered to the hospital? You know my usual florist."

"Certainly, Miss Relena."

"This is the note to go with them, and this-" She handed him a piece of paper torn from a notebook. "-is the address. Thank you."

As he took the paper from her hand, the second page tucked behind the first slid askew, showing several hastily written lines. Without turning a hair, he folded the two pages together and slipped them into his breast pocket, bowed slightly, and walked out.

After he was gone, Relena tore the next few pages out of her notebook and slid them into her pocket. That afternoon, when she left the office to go to another appointment, she'd drop them into the shredder as she passed, just in case someone might check the impressions left and find a legible sentence.

- - - - - -

Downstairs in the secure parking garage, Pargan hesitated for a moment, reaching towards his pocket, then turned the gesture into a brushing motion as if he were dusting off a speck of lint as a security guard looked towards him. Nodding towards the guard, he took Relena's pink limousine out and drove sedately to the exclusive (and expensive) florist she preferred. As he parked, a dark blue car that had been three spots behind him the whole way slowed down briefly before driving off.

He checked to make sure nobody was close enough to see what he was doing before he pulled the papers out and looked at them. The first was just an address, giving a name, ward number and bed number, and then the delivery address for a nearby hospital. The second was addressed to him.

_Pargan, this is important. When you send the flowers to Marjorie, send another arrangement to the address below. Pay cash. Seal the note in an envelope and write 'Please hand this to the boys across the road' on it, then put that in a second envelope and include it with the delivery._

Also, be careful. The office is _**BUGGED**__! I'm so angry!_

An address followed, then a few more sentences in Relena's clear handwriting. Pargan read them, raised one grey eyebrow, then carefully tore that section of the page off and slipped it back into his pocket, entering the florist with the sealed note and first address prominently in his hands. Behind him, a dark blue car cruised slowly back along the road.

"I need to send two deliveries," he told the young man behind the counter. "Separate transactions, please; one is personal, and I need a receipt for the second one, as that's work-related."

"Certainly, sir!" the florist said, happy to help someone he knew as one of his best customers. "What sort of arrangement were you thinking of?"

"A small arrangement of orchids first, I think," Pargan said, picking up a notecard and envelope from the counter. "It's for a distant relative's birthday. Do you have red- yes, those are lovely," he said, nodding as the young man held up a spray of flowers for him to inspect. "Perfect. She has excellent taste, and- oh dear! I'm afraid I've spoiled this envelope. Might I have another?"

By the time the florist turned back from assembling and wrapping a small, tasteful bunch of orchids and greenery, the note was safely double-sealed and tucked away in an innocent-seeming envelope. Pargan paid cash, politely refused a receipt, and started to discuss requirements for the arrangement his employer wanted to send.

When the dark blue car came back and parked, the orchid arrangement had already been whisked away to await delivery and Pargan was completing negotiations for a large, showy, expensive table arrangement with included vase. The middle-aged man who got out of the blue car peered in the window for a minute, then came inside for a closer look at the various flowers on offer, circling the room aimlessly until he came to the counter. He peered at Pargan's arrangement, grunted, fingered a leaf, and glanced at the attached envelope before walking out.

Pargan sniffed, readjusted the leaf, paid for the arrangement with his Departmental credit card, took the receipt and left after thanking the florist again. He paused just outside the door to carefully tuck receipt and card away in his wallet, glanced at the dark blue car without appearing to notice the man inside, then strode back to the pink limousine and drove away.

As he waited at the entrance to the parking lot for a break in traffic, he glanced in the rear-view mirror as the dark blue car also pulled out of its spot and drew up behind him, looked back at the road, then took a more careful look in the mirror as something occurred to him. As he pulled out onto the road, he reached over and hit a preset button on the car phone.

[ [ You've reached the police non-emergency line, what is your call regarding? ] ]

"Good morning," Pargan said politely, still watching the blue car in the mirror. "I understand there is currently a, ah, 'blitz' attempting to deter drivers from using non-handsfree phones while driving?"

[ [ That is correct. ] ]

"Very good. I am currently driving north-west on Patterson Avenue, and there is a person in a dark blue Ford talking on a mobile phone- oh dear. He's not steering very well, he just nearly sideswiped a car in the next lane."

[ [ We appreciate you letting us know, sir. Can you see the car's registration? ] ]

Pargan carefully dictated the Ford's licence plate number, gave his own details, and could hear fast typing in the background as the dispatcher thanked him. A few minutes later, flashing blue and red lights appeared behind him, and he drove on serenely as the Ford pulled over.


	43. Chapter 42

Demon of Justice  
Chapter 42  
"I don't want to know!"  
-

* * *

"For us? Really? Oh my, that **is** lovely. Thank you!"

The sound of the front door closing again carried into the well-lit kitchen where Miss Immy was standing, waiting for the kettle to boil as cats circled her ankles like furry sharks. "No, you silly things, I'm making tea, not kitty treats- here, smell. See? I told you!" The rotund black-and-white cat she'd offered the teapot to stalked off looking offended, and she chuckled as she straightened up. "Neppy? Who was it?"

Miss Neppy walked in, brandishing a bunch of red orchids like a weapon. "Flowers!"

"Ooh! Pretty ones, too! Who are they from?" Abandoning the tea for the moment, Immy started looking for a suitable vase.

"I don't recognise the handwriting," Neppy said, a little dubiously. Carefully tearing the envelope open, she reached in and pulled out… another envelope. "'Please hand this to the boys across the road'," she read out loud.

Immy turned back towards her, small vase in hand, and raised her eyebrows. "It's a message for the boys? Sent to us?"

"Sealed, and disguised as something innocent," Neppy said slowly, putting the orchids down on the bench and turning the second envelope over in her hands. "…We're being used as a dead drop."

There was a pause, silent except for the purring of one persistent cat who wouldn't believe that tea was the only substance on offer.

Both elderly ladies turned to look at the kettle, just coming on to boil.

* * * * *

"Well?" Churnazh snapped, glaring at his third son- second living son, now, came the unwelcome thought- as Arsham strode into the throne room.

"All's quiet enough now," Arsham shrugged, coming to a halt in front of his father's throne and beginning his report without ceremony. "It's an unsettled sort of quiet, though; I'd not want to call it calm. The storm ended even faster than it started and with no more sign of what caused it than we got yesterday, and the whole city's just waiting to see what happens next. Countryside too, I'd bet, though we've not had time to get reports from further out than a few leagues," he added, shrugging.

"The city'd be a lot more settled if you'd cracked down harder yesterday, right at the start," Chalghaz snapped, looking down his nose at his shorter sibling. Behind him, Chalak nodded emphatically, slack face trying to hold an expression of self-important solemnity and failing. "You're too soft, **little** brother."

Arsham raised one unimpressed eyebrow. "Crack down harder? On a bunch of city guards, off-duty soldiers, and shopkeepers that were already trembling on the edge of the Rage- aye, and falling over it, too! D'you think it would've been an improvement to have a berserk mob in the streets? Besides, I was on the spot, did what I thought best at the time, and it worked. If you wanted someone to crack down harder, you could have done it yourself… if you'd been there." His lips hardened into a tight line. "Which you weren't. Where were you, brother?"

He didn't go on, but his eyes flicked across to their father for a moment, and Churnazh could read the question in them: _And where were __**you**__, father?_

"Enough!" he barked as Chalghaz swayed forwards, mouth opening for a heated reply, and his heir settled back on his heels. "Both of you, enough. Chalghaz, leave be; Arsham keeps a tight enough grip, and if there's a quibble with his methods, I'll be the one to point it out, not you. Arsham-" He nodded grudging approval, getting a bare lift of Arsham's chin in acknowledgment. "-well done. You'll be wanting to keep an eye on the situation, so I'll not keep you. Let me know if anything changes."

Arsham's lip curled slightly at the obvious dismissal, but he nodded briskly before turning on his heel and marching out. Beside Churnazh, Chalghaz huffed a growl under his breath as his half-brother didn't bother to even glance at him as he left.

"He's awfully stuck-up for a bastard," Chalak sneered, and Churnazh rounded on him in fury.

"Bastard or no, he's useful!" the Prince roared, glaring at his youngest son. "I give him a job and it gets done! He has a right to be arrogant. What makes you think **you've** got any worth, eh? I've not seen any point to you in years, boy, don't you start getting airs!"

Chalak cringed away from him, stuttering excuses. "I wasn't- I didn't mean-"

"Get out of my sight!"

Breath hissing through his teeth, Churnazh settled back into his throne as Chalak scurried out, his half-dozen personal guardsmen following on his heels. Chalghaz eyed his father warily for a few breaths before apparently deciding that his anger had been directed only at the youngest prince, not some general fit or spurt of the Rage that might aim itself at him next.

The few courtiers who hadn't barricaded themselves in their own homes during the uncanny storm were keeping to the other end of the long room, whispering uneasily to each other… all except for one. Lord Yarthag, head of the house of Harkand, was drifting casually closer. Churnazh beckoned him over and lowered his voice, but didn't speak to the lord immediately; his attention was on Chalghaz.

"Let Arsham be," he said, threat clear in his tone. "As I said, he's useful, and I'll not have you trying to undermine him!"

Chalghaz's jaw clenched, but he didn't bother to deny his father's accusation. "He's too popular," he argued, keeping his voice down as well. "Half the army follows him personally, not us- not **you**- and if he ever snaps his fingers-"

"He won't," Churnazh assured him, snorting with mingled irritation and scorn. "Aye, the soldiers love him, but he's got no following outside the army and no legal claim to the throne. He may be my acknowledged bastard, but the important part of that is 'bastard'. He's no threat to your position, so leave him be!"

"**You** didn't have a legal claim to the throne," Chalghaz persisted, greatly daring, and Churnazh's response hung in the balance for a moment before amusement won and he laughed.

"I did not," he agreed, lips stretching in a carnivore's grin. "What I did have was the will to mount a coup anyway, and enough support in the court to make it stick. He's got neither. Let him be."

Reluctantly, Chalghaz nodded, and Churnazh bored in to make his point, stabbing his son in the chest with one thick finger. "As for Chalak, I hope you're not fooling yourself that **he's** a threat?"

Chalghaz rolled his eyes. "In his own head, maybe."

"Then I'll thank you to stop worrying about undermining the two of them to shore up your own position, and start worrying about doing your part as my heir to shore up both of us!" Churnazh hissed.

"**Am** I your heir?" Ears flattening slightly, Chalghaz jerked his chin towards Yarthag. "If he's wrong about Harnak being dead, and he does come back, am I still going to be your heir?"

"I assure you, my lords-"

Churnazh cut him off with a raised hand, eyes still on his son. "You are that," he said flatly. "Harnak was fool enough to be caught at rape by Bahnak's son and weak enough to lose to him in a fight. If he'd killed him then or had the wits to intercept him before he got those two women to Hurgrum, things would have blown over. As it is now, even if he comes back alive… well, I'll probably have him killed quiet-like myself, before he can embarrass me any further." His expression was perfectly flat and his voice perfectly matter-of-fact, and his son swallowed hard before nodding.

"He was also," Churnazh noted, a tinge of threat creeping into his voice as he turned to study Yarthag, "fool enough to be plotting against me. Or did you think I hadn't worked out why my heir would be messing with the Scorpion? And why you'd be making bargains with him behind my back?"

Chalghaz's head sank lower between his shoulders as he furtively glanced around, making sure none of the guards were within earshot as that dangerous name passed his father's lips, but Yarthag merely spread his hands and shrugged. "While I'm sure you're correct about the late prince's motivations," he said smoothly, "I can assure you that he had not gone so far as to mention them openly- nor had any offers along those lines been made to him by my Master's order. There had been discussion of a plan to make sure that Prince Chalghaz was no longer a threat, but events conspired to make that obsolete before any concrete steps- er- eventuated."

Chalghaz sputtered angrily. "That's the first I'm hearing about this!"

"Well, of course," Yarthag said reasonably. "When you weren't the heir and knew nothing of our presence in and around Navahk, it made sense for us to support Harnak against you. Now that you are the heir, and allied to the Scorpion, it makes just as much sense to support **you**. And as your lord father is also allied to the Scorpion," he went on, bowing slightly towards Churnazh, "giving us a royal… friend… in place on the throne, there's no need for us to… ah… promote a change. It is in the Scorpion's best interests to support you, Prince Churnazh, in a long and profitable reign, while also supporting you, Prince Chalghaz, as his eventual successor. In the fullness of time and without… mmm… hurrying matters along in any way."

_Unless Sharna or his priests decide differently. As we both know very well,_ Churnazh thought, looking Yarthag in the eye. The hradani lord looked back, smiling faintly, and Churnazh quirked an ear at him in reluctant respect. _Well, if it ever comes down to it and Chalghaz poses a risk to me, there's no reason I can't have __**him**__ killed quiet-like, too._

"I'm thinking it was a mistake for us to be 'out of town' during the storm," the prince said aloud, changing the subject. "It's raised questions."

Yarthag grimaced and nodded. "I understand your concern, my lord Prince, but as you are our Lord's pincers within Navahk, Tharnatus thought it best to have you both safe within His walls. The storm was definitely of divine origin, and since we had no way of determining its purpose it could very well have been aimed at-"

Churnazh cut him off again, frowning. "Aye, I heard all that from Tharnatus himself! But he's not a hradani, and he doesn't think like one. Even if a human lord could vanish at a time like that without weakening his hold on the throne, which I doubt, all hradani see is that we weren't here to take command when we should have been. We can't do the Scorpion any good as 'pincers' ruling Navahk if people get the idea we shouldn't **be** ruling!"

Yarthag sighed. "True. Still, Prince Arsham did take command in your place and is loyal to you, so there should be little if any damage done. We can put about a story that you and Prince Chalghaz were… mmm… discussing his new responsibilities in private, at a hunting lodge, perhaps? It can go along with a formal acknowledgement of him as your recognised heir, which should prove useful for redirecting people's attention. Also, if you left Navahk before the storm began and were prevented from returning by, say, a flooded ford - perfectly reasonable under the circumstances - most if not all of the questions should be silenced."

"But we didn't," Chalghaz pointed out.

"Did anyone see you leave?" Yarthag asked, one ear slanting downwards. "Did anyone see you within the walls after the storm started? And by 'anyone', I mean 'anyone who might be missed'," he went on, smile widening until it showed teeth. "After all, the Scorpion always has room for more at his Feasts."

Churnazh's smile matched his own.

- - - - -

"That was quick," Ferak said quietly, falling in behind Arsham as he stalked out of the palace. Arsham grunted wordlessly in response but didn't stop, moving straight to where a slave was holding his horse and swinging onto its back without a pause. The slave, an old man with vague eyes and a toothless mouth forever chewing at nothing, looked up at him with a smile, and the prince checked for a moment, taking something out of his belt pouch and holding it out.

"Here, Grumuk," he said, voice surprisingly gentle. "Go on back to the kitchens. It's about time for your dinner, isn't it?"

"Aye, M'lord, that it is," the old man said, grinning as he accepted the sweet and stuffed it into his cheek, sucking noisily. He blocked Ferak's path for a moment as he turned, and his eyes widened as he realised what he'd done, cringing back from a blow that didn't come. Ferak sidestepped around him, pretending not to notice his presence, and untied his own horse's reins from a post.

They rode together in silence for a while, before Arsham abruptly broke it.

"If I gave him coins, somebody would just take them. He gets more worth out of the sweets," he said, sounding defensive.

Ferak made a noncommittal noise, eyeing him sidelong. _Nobody else bothers to give slaves anything at all, much less carry something they know a half-wit likes just in case he does them a service,_ he thought, but didn't say out loud.

They arrived at a cross-street, and Arsham reined his mount to a stop, staring down it with one hand tapping nervously on his thigh. He opened his mouth, paused, bit his lip, and finally shook his head with a faint sigh. "Too much to do," he muttered under his breath, and kneed his horse onwards. "Later."

"Sir?" Ferak asked, letting his tone carry the question, and Arsham shook his head again.

"Nothing. Just a… an errand. It'll have to wait." He looked back over his shoulder at the street, glared suspiciously up at the clear autumn sky, then squared his shoulders and nudged his horse again, kicking it into a trot. Following along behind, Ferak's ears pricked as the prince muttered something else, barely loud enough for him to make it out. "They know where to find me if they need to."

- - - - -

In the hours that followed, Ferak stayed at Arsham's back, watching as the illegitimate prince fielded questions, calmed fears, and gave orders, hearing reports from across Navahk's territory as they came in and sending messengers back to reassure detached divisions of the army that someone was still in command. The panicked tones of the messages told part of the tale, and the messengers themselves told the rest. Frightened men, faced with something visibly unnatural that they could neither fight nor flee, threatened by rising floodwaters, had sometimes held firm; had sometimes not, slipping into the Rage, deserting to seek out their families in a futile effort to protect them, or just plain deserting. The occasional messenger brought casualty reports, usually from soldiers' efforts to restrain their berserk squadmates.

"Make sure all the divisions get the message- the **quiet** message, I don't want this one written down- that any deserters who return to their squads are to be allowed back without consequences. Well, without serious consequences," Arsham amended, mouth quirking into a brief wry smile. "If they harmed their squadmates they're to be disciplined as normal, but otherwise a few weeks of latrine-digging duty should be enough. I'm not setting a precedent here, which is why I don't want this on the record, but the circumstances were… let's just say unusual enough to warrant leniency and leave it at that."

"What if they don't come back?" one of his officers asked, leaning on the map-strewn table, and Arsham grimaced.

"We've got more important things to do than chase them. Let them be."

The prince sent the occasional report up to the palace, punctiliously keeping his father informed, but somehow the quiet amnesty for deserters never got written down on those, either. Ferak doubted the messengers - soldiers all, men who'd been close to Arsham even before his father took the throne - were planning to tell Black Churnazh verbally, either.

_Not if Arsham doesn't order them to,_ he thought, ears quirking to different angles at the thought. _And he isn't going to._

It was dark before the flood of reports and messages ended. The few still arriving were calmer now, no longer demanding immediate responses, and Arsham rubbed tiredly at his face as he sat back in his chair.

"Pack up," he said wearily, waving generally at the litter of maps and notes. Suiting action to the words, he pulled the nearest couple of maps towards himself and started slowly rolling them up, looking around to find where their case had gotten to. "If you're past your normal shift, get to bed; make sure the duty officer knows to check any more incoming messages and wake me if it's something serious. Who's duty officer tonight, anyway? Garnek? Can he read?"

"His lieutenant can," another officer reassured him, yawning hugely as he shuffled messages and notes into a loose stack.

"Good enough," Arsham sighed, still trying to find the map case. "Has anyone seen-"

His voice broke off abruptly, and Ferak stiffened, one hand going to his sword as he turned to see what the prince was looking at, searching for a threat. _…Just a messenger?_

The hradani standing in the doorway shifted uncomfortably, looking around, and Ferak revised his first impression. _Not a messenger. Not a military messenger, at least- he's not a soldier._ The man was unarmed except for a long belt knife and dressed in nondescript leather and cloth, working clothes rather than armour. _Armed, so he's not a slave; some city worker? Civilian messengers should be going up to the palace-_

"Akar!" Arsham said abruptly, snapping out of his stasis. "What are you- uh- is there a message?"

"Uh, yes, m'lord. Um…" The man looked around, ears flattening nervously, and Arsham beckoned him closer.

"Go to bed, the lot of you," he said firmly, waving the watching officers and messengers away. "The night shift can tidy the rest of this up. Good work," he added sincerely, and tired grins flashed as they left.

"Akar, what- oh. Ferak. Excuse us for a moment."

Ferak blinked, then nodded, following the last messenger out into the next room and pointedly closing the door behind him. He took up station beside the door, arms folded, leaning on the wall like any tired bodyguard might, and waited until the last man yawned his way out towards home or barracks… then shifted sideways a few inches, and swivelled his ears to point at the crack between door and wall.

The average hradani had excellent hearing. Ferak's was better than average.

"…not send Yurgazh?" he heard Arsham ask, voice carefully low.

"He's got double duty, looking after the south gate," the messenger - Akar - replied, voice even lower but mostly clear. A few words were lost as something shifted, probably a chair. "…sent word…" Another noise of shifting furniture. "…guessed you wouldn't be free to come to the temple."

Ferak stiffened, ears flattening to his head and nearly blocking out Arsham's rueful reply. _Temple?! There's no temple in Navahk…_

No **known** temple, that was. No publicly acknowledged temple. Certainly no temple of the Light gods.

Mind racing, Ferak forced his ears up again, listening hard.

"…was that storm?" Arsham was asking, voice serious. "Did Himself have a hand in it? Because if he did, you can tell him I'd have appreciated a warning!"

"No. He says it was Chemalka Herself."

"That makes sense- but why?!"

"He doesn't know. It's not like he can go ask her," Akar added dryly.

"Ha. I suppose not. No ideas?"

"None he's passed on to me… except that he thinks it was something to do with a ship, because there wasn't anything else he could see in the area that might be important. Of course, he can't see everything, so…" Akar's voice trailed off, and Ferak could imagine him shrugging.

"A ship?" Arsham asked sharply. "If that's it, I **saw** it. A halfling ship, heading upriver."

"Halflings?" Akar sounded surprised.

"Marfang Island halflings. I wonder…" Arsham trailed off into a thoughtful mutter, and Ferak could no longer make out the words.

There was another scrape of wood against stone, and Akar spoke again, voice still low but clearer as he turned towards the door. "I need to get back," he said, sounding… embarrassed? "Several of the, uh, the men came to shelter in the temple while the storm was strongest, and, um… well, I'm needed, I suppose."

"You could have sent Mathel," Arsham said, and Akar snorted.

"They brought their families," he said dryly. "She's had her hands full convincing the women that we weren't about to sacrifice them all."

"Ouch!" A quiet laugh.

"I don't know how we're supposed to keep it a secret **now**," Akar added.

"You could get Himself to ask them to keep quiet. He's convincing enough," Arsham suggested, voice turning wry. "Why didn't you ask him to calm them down instead of sticking Mathel with the job?"

"Because unlike you, me, and Mathel, they aren't the sort of people who can handle a god popping in for a chat without falling down," Akar sighed, sounding oddly matter-of-fact about it. "Ah well. We'll deal with it somehow, I suppose." He paused for a moment, then went on, voice suddenly serious. "Krashnark's hand is above you, m'lord. Be well."

There was another pause before Arsham responded, and he sounded even more wry as he said, "I can't speak as a priest, but I'm fairly sure His hand is above you too, Akar. Go well."

Ferak slid quietly back to his place against the wall behind the door, still thinking hard.

_Krashnark… that's different. I think. Is it? He's still a Dark god, but…_

That was as far as he could get. **But**. Krashnark was Dark, **but**. The Dark gods were feared and hated, **but**. Anyone who worshipped the Dark gods after what they'd done to hradani during the Fall of Kontovar was the worst sort of traitor, traitor to his whole race rather than just his lord or his clan… **but**.

But Ferak kept coming back to the fact that even if Arsham was, apparently, a follower of Krashnark… he was also the same person who would think to give a sweet to a senile old man.

He stayed where he was as the door opened, blocking him from view as Akar left. Arsham followed, grunting tiredly and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he closed the door with the other-

-and froze, ears flattening as he saw Ferak, still leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Ferak looked back at him, feeling his own ears twitch, half-flattening and then lifting again.

"…Well?" Arsham said finally, letting go of the latch and dropping both hands to his sides. He didn't reach for his sword, but his ears were still slanted backwards and his voice was defiant. Ferak blinked and looked away, breaking the challenging stare and rubbing thoughtfully at his nose.

"I don't know what in all the hells you think you're doing," he said eventually, pushing away from the wall and hooking both hands into the front of his belt, away from his own sword in a pointedly non-threatening stance. "And I don't want to know."

"That comes as a bit of a surprise from a man who's just been **eavesdropping**," the prince told him acidly, and Ferak snorted rueful agreement.

"Aye, well, I might be wishing I hadn't right now," he admitted, still not meeting Arsham's glare. "That being said… I've followed you for years because I trusted you, and… well, I still trust you. I think."

"And I thank you for that… I think," Arsham said, a faint wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll admit I'm not exactly comfortable myself with some of the things I've been doing lately, but-"

"I said I don't want to know, and I mean it!" Ferak said hastily, waving his hands in negation. "Don't **tell** me! I just…" He struggled to find words, then finally threw up his hands in defeat, scowling. "I don't want to think about it. Just don't tell me."

One of Arsham's ears slowly lifted to a more relaxed position, while the other twisted to the side, and the prince cocked his head at his frustrated officer. "So… you trust me?"

"Aye."

"But you don't want to know what you're trusting me about." The prince's stance was definitely amused now, tension draining out of his muscles as he folded his arms and cocked one eyebrow.

"Phrobus damn your eyes, you know what I mean!"

"Oh, I've nothing to do with **him**," Arsham said cheerily, and Ferak groaned.

"**I don't want to know!**" He glared at his prince, then sighed. "All I do know is, you're better than anything or anyone else this city has. I have to trust that you'll do the right thing, even if I might not understand **why** it's the right thing."

"I think it is," Arsham told him, sobering again. "At least, I can't see a better path ahead of me - ahead of us, ahead of Navahk - and I looked hard. Still, Ferak… a time's going to come when I'll have to tell you what I'm doing. You'll need to think about it eventually."

"Aye, and I wager I'll decide to keep trusting you then too," Ferak muttered, rubbing his nose again. "Seeing as how you're still going to be the best option, since I don't expect Chalak to grow a spine and a brain all at once."

When Arsham's ears flattened again and he grimaced, looking away, Ferak realised that not mentioning Churnazh and Chalghaz had been even more damning than his jab at Chalak's lack of redeeming qualities. The Black Prince and his second legitimate son had the ability Chalak lacked, but no trace of the self-control and self-denial necessary to make a good ruler… and no desire to **be** good rulers.

"It's a damn shame the Black Prince never married your mother," Ferak growled, and Arsham snorted a humourless laugh.

"Bite your tongue, Ferak! She didn't deserve that sort of punishment."

"Fair," Ferak agreed. _And we wouldn't be having this conversation if he'd had more of a hand in your raising,_ he added privately, following his prince out of the room. _I'd be running for the hills if I found out you were following a Dark god, not trusting you despite it._

* * * * *

"You're Jahnkah, aren't you? The chamberlain?"

The elderly hradani turned, leaning on the short but wickedly sharp halberd he was using as a walking stick, and quirked his ears at the small group of halflings staring up at him. The one in the lead was scowling, fists planted on his hips, but didn't seem annoyed with Jahnkah in particular; the two standing behind him looked like they'd recently been in a fight, one with a bandage ruffling his pale hair and half-covering his left eye, the other with a chip out of his right horn that he kept reaching up to fiddle with.

"Aye, that's me," Jahnkah replied in accented Axeman, nodding politely. "And how can I be helping you?"

The bandaged halfling grinned, and the one in front rolled his eyes and sighed in theatrical relief. "Korthrala be thanked! Half the people we've asked so far don't speak a language I know, and the half who do don't know the answer to my question. I don't suppose you know where our blasted- ah, where our captain has gotten to, do you? No offence meant, but there's a definite tension in the air today, and he didn't take anyone with him **or** think to tell us where he was going when he walked off. It'd be just Evark's usual luck to get himself into whatever trouble might be on offer."

"None taken," Jahnkah assured him, and indeed the tiny man's attitude wasn't offensive at all; he seemed more likely to blame his captain for any problems caused by his wandering around alone than to assume hradani were at fault. "As to where your captain has taken himself off to, I'm thinking he's talking to our Chief Justiciar."

All three halflings winced, and Jahnkah realised they'd taken that the wrong way. "She was after asking him to give her his version of events, y'see," he explained, hiding a grin by reaching up to scratch his cheek. "Being as how Lord Brandark is in no shape to answer questions just yet."

The winces were less exasperated and more pained, this time, and the apparent leader of the group sighed. "Chihar's blaming himself for not insisting we got a proper healer to him, spies be damned," he said ruefully. "-Ah. I beg your pardon," he added, drawing himself up to his full height (which was still at least six inches short of reaching Jahnkah's belt buckle) and giving a short half-bow, half-nod. "Master Verath Holderman, second in command of the _Wind Dancer_. This pair of no-hopers-" He jerked one thumb over his shoulder at the two other halflings, who grinned cheerfully at the insult. "- are Gurak and Lind."

"Jahnkah, son of Madekh, of Hurgrum and Clan Iron Axe." The chamberlain nodded back, then jerked his chin to indicate a side passage. "Would you be wanting me to show you to where your captain and the Justiciar are having their talk?"

"Aye, I'd appreciate that," Holderman grunted, and followed as Jahnkah turned that way.

The chamberlain had a limp courtesy of an old knee injury, which slowed him to a pace the halflings could keep up with without effort, but a sideways glance at their leader's determined stride hinted that even a more normal Horse Stealer walking speed wouldn't leave them lagging behind. Another sideways glance caught the ship's second-in-command sneaking his own look up at Jahnkah, and the short man grinned, a sharp, challenging expression.

"Not used to halflings?" he asked, and Jahnkah snorted.

"Not used to non-hradani," he said truthfully, "except for humans, and the most of them I've seen have been Sothoii and met over crossed blades. I will admit we don't hear much about halflings, and what we do hear tends to be a bit contradictory."

"Aye, well, there's halflings and then there's Marfang Island halflings," Holderman shrugged. "We're the sailors."

_As opposed to the cowards and thieves._ "And are you not used to hradani, then?"

It was Holderman's turn to snort. "We're used to Wild Wash hradani," he said dryly. "They're decent enough neighbours, if you overlook the occasional bit of raiding and pillaging - better than Purple Lords any day! - but they're not a patch on you lot for size."

"…There's not many as would be willing to overlook raiding and pillaging at all, at all," Jahnkah said cautiously, eyeing the halfling with new interest. "However occasional it might be."

Holderman grimaced, scratching at his chin where stubble showed either the beginnings of a short beard or a lack of shaving tools that morning. "There's some Marfangers who won't," he admitted finally, shrugging again. "Usually the land-bound types, the sort who farm - not that there's much room for farms on the Island - or trade, and have crops and warehouses that can't run away from a raid or be easily defended. They've got more to lose, and I see their point. Fishermen, though, or traders like us, we can run or fight; raids are a risk, d'you see, but it's not really that big of a one. Bad weather's more of a threat to us than the Wild Wash. As for the navy-"

Gurak laughed outright. "M'brother's in the navy," he put in, grinning up at Jahnkah. "He says half of the officers, and half the Wild Wash chieftains too, treat it more like a game than anything else. There's sort-of rules, and so long as nobody breaks 'em-"

Holderman glared him into silence, then continued. "'Tisn't often anyone dies," he shrugged. "That's one of the 'sort-of rules'. There's months go by sometimes without any trouble, and we generally know when there's trouble coming, because they **tell** us when the latest truce is over. In between times…" He shrugged again. "They trade with us, and sometimes we'll even hire a few of 'em. I'll tell you what though, I've travelled around a lot more of Norfressa than even most Marfang Islanders ever do, and I'll take the Wild Wash over how most other non-halflings treat us, raids and all!"

"Oh, aye?" Jahnkah's ears swivelled into new positions and he checked, stopping in the middle of the corridor to stare down at the tiny halfling. "And how is it that other races treat you that's so much worse than raiding, then?"

"Like children, half the time," Gurak muttered. "Or like they think 'halfling' means 'halfwit'."

This time Holderman didn't glare him down, nodding in agreement instead. "Aye. The Wild Wash at least treat us with as much respect as they show each other."

"And would it be you're showing them respect in your turn?" Jahnkah asked thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Of course. They're decent fighters, they keep their word, and the worst among 'em has more seamanship in his left ear than the best Purple Lord shipmasters have in their whole **crews**."

Gurak and Lind snickered, but Jahnkah just kept staring down at Holderman with a solemn expression. "Well, Master Verath Holderman of the _Wind Dancer_, I'll tell you now that that's the most complimentary thing I've ever heard said about hradani by an outlander."

Holderman frowned slightly. "It's plain truth," he said shortly, planting his fists back on his hips, apparently ready to defend his assessment of the Wild Wash hradani by force of arms if necessary.

"…And I thank you for seeing it," Jahnkah said eventually, before turning around and continuing to walk without another word.

* * * * *

"Huh. Miss Immy's taking the Beast out," Duo reported from his observation station on the couch, sprawled sideways with his arms folded on the back and his chin propped on his wrists.

"Maybe she's picking up the coffee?" Quatre suggested, not looking up from his laptop as he typed alterations into the spreadsheet tracking their assorted purchases and preparations. "Duo, I can't work out your handwriting on this one- what's the dark green lizard carving made out of?"

"Chrysocolla," Duo told him. "C, h, r, y, s- oh hey, there goes Sideburns Man -o, c, o, double l, a."

"Did he look at our house?" Quatre asked, freezing with one finger poised half-way through entering the gemstone name.

"Nope."

"Did he look last time?"

"Nope," Duo said cheerfully, grin widening.

"But he looks at all the **other** houses."

"Yep."

Quatre sighed. "Heero's right," he said mournfully, typing in the rest of the word and hitting 'Save'. "They know we're here, and he's the obvious decoy to try to distract us from the real surveillance."

"Or they know we're here, and he **is** the real surveillance, just not very good at it," Duo suggested, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch as he watched Sideburns Man drive slowly back up the street. "Did your sister get back to you about the licence plate search yet?"

"Not yet. It's harder to get that sort of not-quite-legal favour done now that the war's over," Quatre grumbled, getting up and looking out the window over Duo's shoulder. "Duo, I know I picked this place, but I'm starting to think it was a bad idea."

Duo shrugged one shoulder, not looking away from his surveillance of the street outside. "Hey, we had our reasons for needing a real, legally verifiable address, mostly related to my stupid knee-"

"It's hardly your fault that-"

"-and you did a damn good job of picking one thank-you-Quatre-now-hush," the long-haired pilot finished in a rush, smirking at the other teen's reflection in the window. "So we're gonna need to blow this joint soon, hopefully not literally. So what? You didn't feel bad about having to leave safe houses before, why now?"

"…I suppose because I was starting to feel settled here," Quatre said eventually, mouth twisting into a wry smile. "Hm. Not the best frame of mind for me to be in, under the circumstances."

"You know what, Q?" Duo twisted his head backwards to look at his friend for a moment, eyebrows raised. "I think I was too, only it wasn't comfortable type settled, it was stuck type settled. I've been getting **itchy**."

"Well put." Hands on his hips, Quatre looked around the room, frowning at the scattered piles of scribbled-upon notepaper and bags full of assorted supplies. "You know, if we had to evacuate in a hurry, we'd be stuck doing one hell of a dirty bug-out. There's no way we could sanitise this place in less than two hours unless we set it on fire."

"Q! You **swore**!" Duo gasped, clutching his chest theatrically.

"Oh, hush yourself. You keep watching the street; I'm going to start destroying the evidence."

"You just want to stifle my arsonist impulses- huh. Here comes Miss Neppy."

There was a brisk knock on the front door, and Quatre opened it, smiling politely. "Good afternoon, Miss Neppy! How are you and Miss Immy today?"

"Fine, thank you dear," she said in a distracted voice, walking straight past him. "Close the door before that idiot comes back, would you please?"

"…Okay," he said slowly, doing as she asked. On the sofa, Duo swivelled to look at them, eyes intent.

"Hi, Miss Neppy. What's wrong?"

The elderly woman looked around, frowning. "Are Trowa and Heero home?"

"Not right now, no…"

"Bother. That could be a problem."

"They should be back soon, or we can call them if it's an emergency," Quatre told her.

"Oh, good. Apparently your cover is blown," she said bluntly, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of her purse and handing it to him. "Imogen will be leaving the big car on the other side of the park and walking back home in about ten minutes. I'm afraid we haven't got all the coffee yet, but there's about half of it packed in the back, and all the other things you wanted. The tank is full."

"Neppy, hon…" Duo said warily. "Are you telling us to **steal** the Beast?"

"Of course not!" She sniffed, apparently offended. "We're loaning it to you. I'm sure we'll get it back eventually."

Quatre was staring at the paper in his hand, reading quickly. "This is from Re- uh-" He glanced up at Neppy and visibly changed what he'd been about to say. "Your, uh, padawan, Duo. 'My office, communications, and computers are bugged, so don't call me. The Lady told me to warn you that you're about to be located through my purchases if you haven't already. The conservatives want to recruit you, by force if necessary. They probably supported my platform last week so we'd be busy with setting that up and not looking too closely at them. The Lady is protecting your friends, so don't worry about us. Run! All my love, R. P.S. I'm so sorry, I never thought that buying your furniture would cause problems for you.'"

"…And you got this message, how?" Duo asked, fascinated.

"It was delivered to us with some flowers, with instructions to pass it on to you," she said promptly.

"Like that? Just a piece of paper?"

"We steamed the envelope open. Well, what did you expect, dear?" she asked Quatre as he choked audibly. "We needed to know right away if we should be making any preparations."

"Of course," he said, a little wide-eyed.

"Perfectly reasonable," Duo agreed, keeping his face straight with an effort.

"And would you have done anything different in our place?" she asked in a pointed tone.

"Probably woulda put it back in the envelope and pretended I hadn't read it, but otherwise, nope!"

She sniffed again, waving one hand to dismiss any objections. "Well, that would have been a complete waste of time, especially since we'd have a hard time pretending we didn't know what was going on and still lending you the car. Here are the spare keys-" She handed them to Quatre, who took them automatically. "-and we wish you luck. Look after each other."

"Uh. Yes. We will," Quatre said blankly, looking down at the keys in his hand (attached to a keyring with a large sparkly diamante cat charm on it) and blinked as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. She smelled of coffee and cardamom, not the lavender scent he'd half expected, and he blinked again as she stepped quickly to the couch, leaning down to give Duo the same grandmotherly parting gesture.

As she started to straighten up again, Duo planted an enthusiastic kiss of his own on the side of her chin, grabbing her hand to hold her in place for a moment. "I gotta know," he told her, grinning conspiratorially. "Do you actually know who we are?"

She chuckled quietly. "We have a solid theory, dear, but we'd rather not know if we're correct."

"Plausible deniability?"

"Exactly." She patted his hand. "Now, is the coast clear for me to leave?"

"One sec-" He turned back to the window, checking the street for activity. "Looks good. Immy's coming up the street. Give her our love?"

"Of course, dear." And she was gone, door thumping closed behind her, leaving Quatre still standing in the middle of the room, looking confused.

"I'll message the guys," Duo told him, grabbing his own laptop off the coffee table. "You'd better get to that evidence-destroying you were going to do."

* * * * *

_Wufei?_

The Chinese pilot glanced up towards the water surface where Karthan and the _Osprey_ were and hit a key, saving the comments and annotations he was adding to Nataku's slowly growing map of everywhere he'd been so far. _Karthan? What is it?_

_Torframos. He just spoke to Sir Uthmar and Sir Arwen; apparently we need to speed up._

_Oh? What's happened?_

_I'm… not entirely sure,_ Karthan told him, emotion leaking through to colour his thoughts. _(-excitement/anticipation/wariness-) There's limits to what the Gods know, and more limits on what they can tell us sometimes. I gather that Korthrala found out more about what he and Torframos want us to handle, and they've decided that it would be best if we got there faster._

_To Axe Hallow?_

_And beyond. Apparently we're being sent much further east, into hradani lands, to a pair of city-states named Navahk and Hurgrum. Hurgrum, coincidentally enough, is-_

_-where Cord and Naiya are from, yes, I remember. That was one of the first things I found out after Krashnark dropped all the local languages into my head in one solid lump._

_So it was. The details are a little vague, but we seem to be on Hurgrum's side in whatever is going on, and Sharna is involved somehow._

_Isn't he always?_ Wufei's mental tone was dry, and he felt a sputter of amusement echoing back to him.

_I'll admit that the Scorpion does seem to have his claws in a few too many pies lately, but I can assure you that normally our lives are far more boring than this._

"Mine isn't," Wufei muttered out loud, and blew a strand of hair out of his eyes with an irritated puff of breath.

_Pardon?_

_Nothing. I thought the _Osprey_ was already sailing as fast as it could?_

_No Marfanger captain will ever admit he can't go faster,_ Karthan sent back. _Captain Grantik says he can get a few more knots out of his ship, and we're also going to be sailing at night. Back when we started this, you said that Nataku can manage forty leagues a day and still remain hidden underwater, right?_

_Yes…_ Wufei told him, thinking fast.

_Then you can catch up with us even if you stop to sleep at night?_

_Yes… but I might have a better idea._

_Oh?_

_First, we need to get out of sight from land…_

- - - - -

"Are you sure this idea of his is going to work?" Arwen muttered, leaning down towards Uthmar so that the shorter Champion could hear his near-whisper over the sound of the water lapping at the _Osprey_'s hull.

The Marfanger ship was hove to approximately three leagues from shore, surrounded by the open ocean. Captain Grantik was standing next to the helmsman, tapping one foot nervously and rubbing his horns, and a cluster of halfling crewmen were working with ropes near the bow. One persistent seabird that had followed the ship all the way was now perched on a spar, peering down at the deck.

"It's a bit late to decide you don't trust him," Uthmar muttered back, grinning.

"I trust him," Arwen insisted. "I just don't know how much he knows about ships. **I** don't know anything about ships except that the pointy end is the front, and even that doesn't work with some of them."

"Captain Grantik knows about ships, and he thinks this will work."

"He also looks like he's about to chew through his own bottom lip."

"But he's still going along with it," Uthmar pointed out. "This is the man who was willing to kick us off his deck if he didn't like our reasons for travelling with a demon, Champions or no. I doubt he'd let us try this if he wasn't very, very sure it was going to work."

Any further discussion was cut off when one of the crewmen straightened up and waved, catching the captain's attention.

"Well," Captain Grantik said, blowing out his breath in a sigh, "we're ready, I suppose. Tell that demon of yours- Wufei- to come up."

"He's ready," Karthan told him, leaning on the rail and squinting down into the water.

With one last rub at his horns, Grantik sighed again and nodded to the watching crewman. "All right! Toss the rig over!"

With a splash, the two thick hawsers hit the water. Each had one end tied to a strong metal cleat near the bow, usually used to fasten anchor ropes, and the other end looped around one of the _Osprey_'s spare spars, a section of tree as thick as a human's thigh and about fifteen feet long. The final result was rather like a crude rope swing.

A huge metal hand lifted up out of the water and grasped the floating spar, pulling it under the surface. The ropes followed it down, unreeling from the neat coils on the deck, and the _Osprey_ bobbed a little as they went taut; then the angle of the ropes changed, pulling away from the ship as the underwater 'Gundam-demon' moved slowly to the north. Gradually, ropes creaking, the ship moved to follow.

"Strike all sail and make fast!" Grantik bellowed, now drumming his fingers on his belt buckle. Beside him, the helmsman let go and allowed the water flowing past to pull the rudder into line, spinning the ship's wheel through a couple of slow turns.

"Wufei wants to know, is everything all right so far?" Karthan reported, sounding entirely too cheerful to Arwen's ears.

"I'd like to think you'd tell him soon enough if anything wasn't!" Grantik snapped. "Aye, all's fine. He can-" He swallowed hard, then shook his head, taking a firm grip on the rail. "Tell him he can speed up."

Ten minutes later, the halfling captain was still swearing in amazement as the _Osprey_ fairly flew along, towed inside the immense wake thrown up by Nataku's passage just under the surface of the water.

"Told you it would work," Uthmar said cheerfully.


End file.
